
f/n 

















OVER AT LITTLE ACORNS 


BY 

ELISABETH/OLMIS, 

I 

I 

AUTHOR OF “jack’s HYMN.” 



Presbyterian Committee of Publication. 


Copyrighted 


BY 

J A S. K. H A Z E N, Secretary of Publication. 

I 896. 

/-I- 3^ 3^3 

Printed by 

WhiTTET k Sh EPPERSON, 

Richmond, Va. 


IN LoViNg memory 
OF 

my sister EMMA. 





“Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes, 

In whose orbs a shadow lies 
Like the dusk in evening skies ! 

“Standing with reluctant feet,* 

Where the brook and river meet, 

Womanhood and childhood fleet! 

“Gazing with a timid glance, 

On the brooklet’s swift advance. 

On the river’s broad expanse ! 

‘ ‘ Bear a lily in thy hand ; 

Gates of brass cannot withstand 
One touch of that magic wand. 

“Bear through sorrow, wrong and ruth. 

In thy heart the dew of youth. 

On thy lips the smile of truth. 

“Oh! that dew, like balm, shall steal 
Into wounds that cannot heal, 

Even as sleep our eyes doth seal ; 

“And that smile, like sunshine, dart 
Into many a sunless heart. 

For a smile of God thou art.” 

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 


5 


♦ 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER I. 

A New Friend, ..... 

Page 

11 

CHAPTER II. 

Choosing, ...... 

16 

CHAPTER III. 

A Surprise, ...... 

24 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Archery Club, .... 

31 

CHAPTER V. 

On The River, 

44 

CHAPTER VI. 

In The Boys’ Room, .... 

60 

CHAPTER VII. 

A Twilight Talk, .... 

69 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Silver-tipped Bow, 

76 

CHAPTER IX. 

“Au Revoir,” 

83 

CHAPTER X. 

Louise and Mao, 

93 


7 


8 


Contents. 


CHAPTER XI. 

Sewing, 

Page. 

. 102 

CHAPTEE XIL 

Letters, ...... 

110 

CHAPTER XIII. 

A Gentle Counsellor, .... 

. 118 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Sisters, 

. 125 

CHAPTER XV. 

Getting Acquainted, .... 

. 130 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Haco, 

. 139 

CHAPTER XVII. 

A Christmas Tree, .... 

. 149 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

A Sleigh Ride, 

. 157 

CHAPTER XIX. 

An Invitation, ..... 

. 166 

CHAPTER XX. 

The Secret, ...... 

. 175 

CHAPTER XXL 

Hilda, 

185 

CHAPTER XXII. 

The Prize Essay, 

. 195 


Contents. 9 

Page. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Just in Time, 204 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

On The Hillside, 212 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Good bye, ....... 220 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Unexpected News, ..... 228 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

A Sudden Departure, . . . . . 241 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Tidings From Afar, 254 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

An English Violet, . . . . . 264 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Homeward Bound, 276 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

Home Again, ...... 289 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

“My And Y,’^ 298 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Beauty’s Arrival, ..... 310 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Seeking New Paths, ..... 323 


10 


Contents. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

A Pleasant Forenoon, .... 

Page. 

. 338 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

“M. Q.,” 

. 349 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 
Brownie, 

. 363 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

A Quiet Talk, ..... 

370 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 
At the Chapel, .... 


380 


OVER AT LITTLE ACORNS. 


CHAPTEK 1. 


A FRIEND. 


“Thou lackest not Friendship’s spell- word, nor the half- 
unconscious power to draw all hearts to thine by Love’s 
sweet law .” — John GreenUaf Whittier. 



EBY early one fair June morning Miss 


V Janet Sylvester came out under the oaks 
in her pleasant garden and found some one 
there before her. A tall, broad-shouldered 
young gentleman, who had been lazily swing- 
ing in one of the hammocks, sprang out as she 
approached. 

“Wait one moment, Jeanie. Let me put 
your chair on this rug.” 

“Thank you, Keith,” she replied, adding, 
with an arch look at her companion, “You see 
that I could never do without you. I have 
forgotten how to take care of myself since you 
came.” 

A shadow fell over his face and he said, half- 
vexed, half-amused, “ You are a thorough wo- 
man, Jeanie. You make everything serve your 


11 


12 


Over at Little Acorns. 


purpose and weigh on your side of the argu- 
ment. Why can you not be generous enough 
to help me out of my trouble, instead of making 
it harder each hour for me to leave this place 
where I have been so truly happy? ” 

“ Because, my dear cousin, I do not wish you 
to go. Not wholly on my own account, although 
I confess that I should miss you more than I 
care to think of ; but because you are neither 
physically nor mentally able to attend to your 
work yet. You must remember, Keith, that 
you have been very ill, and not expect impossi- 
bilities from nature. Remember, too, who has 
sent you this burden of weakness to bear, and 
try to find some way in which you can make it 
serve him. Who knows what special work may 
be lying very near your hands, if you are only 
willing to see it ; some labor of love suited to 
your strength.” 

“ Thank you, Jeanie.” 

It was all he said, but she knew by the light- 
ing up of his face that she had soothed his 
impatience. 

Presently he arose and walked to the brook- 
side. As he stood there watching the water 
there was suddenly a glad cry behind him and 
a sound as of some one rushing quickly across 
the grass. Turning, he saw a mass of white 
muslin and blue ribbons in Janet’s lap and a 


A New Friend, 


13 


close-cropped brown head resting on her 
shoulder. An elderly gentleman, with thin, 
dark face and heavy white moustache, was just 
emerging from behind the hedge which sepa- 
rated ‘‘Little Acorns” from “The Acorns.” 

“ Gently, gently, Louise,” he was saying, “ re- 
member that you are a large girl now and — ” 

“ She does not annoy me in the least, Mr. 
Standish,” Miss Janet said, releasing a hand 
from Louise’s clasp and extending it to him. 
“ I am glad, indeed, to see you both at home 
again.” 

“ Thank you. You cannot be more so than 
we are to be here once more,” he replied ear- 
nestly, drawing up a wicker chair and sitting 
down near by. 

“ Keith,” called Miss Janet, “ come ; let me 
introduce you to my good friend and neighbor, 
Mr. Standish, of whom you have heard me 
speak so often. Mr. Standish, this is my 
cousin, Keith Dennet, a very naughty man, 
who will get sick.” 

“ I am glad to know you, Mr. Dennet. Allow 
me to say that you have shown excellent taste 
in your selection of a place for convalescence.” 

At the first mention of Keith’s name Louise 
sprang from Janet’s lap, looking very much as 
if she would like to run a, way. 

“Don’t be frightened,” said Janet, putting 


14 


Over at Little Acorns. 


her arm around the child. “ This is mj cousin, 
and, Keith, this is Louise Standish, a very dear 
little friend of mine.” 

Keith, looking down with a smile and extend- 
ing his hand, met the grave, questioning gaze 
of a pair of dark brown eyes. There was no 
answering smile and the small hands were 
tightly clasped. 

“Do you love him very much. Auntie Jean?” 
she asked, with quivering lips. ' 

“Very much, Louise, and I want you to love 
him, too.” . 

Again the little girl looked up at Keith and 
slowly unclasped her hands, as^ if to take his, 
which was still held out. But, with a quick 
turn, she threw her arms around Janet’s neck 
and burst into a passion of tears. 

Obeying a look from Janet, the two gentle- 
men walked away toward the house. They 
stood talking under the trees some time before 
Janet joined them. 

“ Keith, will you wait here a moment ? ” she 
asked, “ Louise wishes to speak with you before 
she comes in.” 

She and Mr. Standish passed on, and very 
soon Keith spied a small white-robed figure 
coming from the grove. His first impulse was 
to go and meet her ; but on second thought, he 
remained leaning against the tree where he had 
been standing. 


A New triend. 

Louise came directly to him and held out her 
hand. 

‘‘I beg your pardon, Mr. Keith, for being so 
rude to you.” 

“It is freely granted, Miss Louise ; I am very 
sorry to have made you so unhappy.” 

“Oh! it wasn’t your fault at all, sir j that is. 
what I wish to tell you, the reason why I was 
so naughty. I was afraid that Auntie Jean 
wouldn’t love me so well now that you are here, 
and I could not bear to think of that.” 

“I should think not,” said Keith. 

“ But I know better now, and I am really and 
truly sorry that I did what I did.” 

Her face was crimson from mingled shame 
and embarrassment, but she looked up at him 
frankly. 

Keith was deeply touched by her artless con- 
fession. 

“And you are willing to be my friend, now? ” 
he asked, still holding her hand in his. 

“Oh! yes, sir; if you will have me. I am 
quite sure that I will never treat you so again.” 

“It is a compact, then, Louise. We are 
friends.” 


CHAPTEE IL 


CHOOSING. 


All red with joy the waiting west; 

Oh ! little swallow, 

Couldst thou tell me which road is best?’^ 

— Helen Hunt Jackson. 

GUISE was at “Little Acorns” a large 



1 J share of the time now, and Keith always 
felt better and brighter for her coming. Her 
merry laugh and dancing footsteps broke the 
monotony of the quiet days, and in a romp 
with her about the garden or a long ramble 
through the woods he forgot his discontent 
and grew stronger and browner and more like 
himself. 

“It is just what he needed,” said Janet to 
herself one day, as she sat watching them pelt 
each other with roses. “ Something to arouse 
him and make him forget himself.” 

Presently they came up and he threw himself 
down on the grass at her feet, while Louise 
placed on her head a crown of fragrant buds. 

“There! isn’t she lovely? And see, Mr. 
Keith, her cheeks just match the roses,” ex- 
claimed Louise, gaily. 

Keith, fanning himself with his hat, regarded 
her with approval. 


16 


Choosing. 


IZ 


“By the way, Jeanie,” he said, “I had a 
letter from Marston this morning. Some one 
has given a good-sized legacy to the Walnut 
Hill Mission, and John Kirke has agreed to 
come there for the summer.” 

“How delightful that is! Now your people 
will be in good hands until you are strong 
again.” 

“They were in good hands all the time, 
Jeanie, in the Lord’s hands, only I could not 
see, in my blind egotism, how they could do 
without Keith Dennet’s hands,” he said, gravely. 
“I am rebuked and ashamed of my lack of 
faith. How is it that we can be so weak, when 
we have so many promises and such repeated 
instances of God’s goodness to the children of 
men?” 

“ ‘ The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh 
is weak.’ Keith, I am so glad that this has 
happened. Now you will stay with me con- 
tentedly until fall, will you not?” Janet 
looked at him affectionately and laid her hand 
on his thick, dark locks. 

A bright look answered her before the words 
came. 

“ Yes, Jeanie,” he said, holding up his hands. 
“They are getting brown, but not very strong 
yet. Louise and I are thinking of starting an 
nrchery club, by way of developing muscle ; 


18 


Over at Little Acorns. 


or a boat club; or do you think a tennis 
court would be better still?” 

Louise had been standing, during this con- 
versation, behind Miss Janet’s chair, softly 
caressing the flower-crowned head. Now she 
sprang forward, her eyes sparkling with excite- 
ment and her cheeks flushing. 

“Archery! boating I Oh, Mr. Keith!” she 
exclaimed, clasping her hands, and drawing a 
long breath of joy. “ But I do not remember. 
Are you quite sure that you spoke about it 
before? ” 

“ Is it possible that you can have forgotten 
so soon. Miss Lucinda?” he inquired. 

The shadow cleared from her brow and she 
laughed merrily. She had learned that he was 
always teasing when he called her “Miss Lu- 
cinda.” So she sat down on the grass beside 
him and they discussed the fascinating topics 
in all their details. 

“ It is so hard to choose, Auntie,” she cried 
at last, looking up at Janet in perplexity. 
“There will be just six of us for either; that is, 
when my cousins come, and there is such a 
good place on the edge of the park that I know 
papa will let us have, and the arrows and bows 
and archery costumes will be so pretty; but 
boating is delicious, I know already — and there 
is my lovely new boat. The River Bird. Oh, 
dear, can’t vou help me choose ? ” 


Choosing. 


19 


They both laughed at the long sentence 
spoken with one breath and at her anxious 
face. 

“It is, indeed, a difficult choice, my dear. 
But I should decide in favor of archery ; for, 
unless Keith wishes to have his hands very full, 
I should advise him not to take half-a-dozen 
inexperienced young people on the water. Then 
it is rather a long walk to the river once or 
twice every day; for I suppose you mean to 
be very earnest workers.” 

“Oh, yes, of course; not a play club at all, 
is it, Mr. Keith?” 

“Not a bit of it,” said Keith, heartily. “I 
think, Jeanie, that your advice is good. Sup- 
pose that we arrange it in this way, Louise : 
we will have an archery club of six members ; 
and a boat club of two, you and I ; and tennis 
just as it happens.” 

Louise expressed unqualified approval of 
this, and invited Janet to go out with them in 
The River Bird as often as she could. 

“Thank you, dear,” said Janet, with a grace 
and dignity befitting the occasion. “I feel 
highly honored to be the first guest of so select 
a club.” 

At this moment the clear tones of a whistle 
were heard. Louise sprang up in dismay. 

“That is Auntie Bell’s call. I suppose that 


20 


Over at Little Acorns. 


Professor Heinrich has come to give me my 
music-lesson. Can it be three o’clock yet?” 

Keith held out his watch, which pointed to 
five minutes past the hour. 

“ ‘ Tempus fugit^ little lady. May I appoint 
the first meeting of The Little Acorns Boating 
Club for to-morrow morning at five o’clock? 
Members to meet here and walk in a body to 
the river.” 

“If you please,” cried Louise, delighted. 
“ Then we can arrange everything.” 

“ That is quite an undertaking. Miss Lucinda, 
but we will see what we can do towards it.” 

She ran off laughing, and reached home 
breathless, but with so radiant a face that 
Auntie Bell, who stood upon the porch waiting 
for her, had not the heart to chide her. 

“Oh! auntie, Mr. Keith is going to have an 
archery club for us here, and besides — ” 

“Yes, dear, but you are keeping Professor 
Heinrich waiting. Bun up now and smooth 
your hair. Ellen has a fresh dress ready for 
you. You shall tell me all about it this evening.” 

She kissed the crimson cheek lovingly, and 
the little girl returned the caress by throwing 
her arms around her auntie’s neck. 

“There, wasn’t that a good hug? I feel so 
happy, I’m afraid I cannot possibly sit very still.” 

“I’m afraid so, too,” was the laughing re- 


Choosing. 21 

sponse, as Louise skipped along the hall and 
ran upstairs. 

The next morning dawned fair and beauti- 
ful. It was yet some minutes before five o’clock 
when the junior member of the new boat club 
slipped the bolt of a side door, and ran down 
the gravelled walk. But the sunbeams were 
earlier than she, and danced and glanced among 
the glistening dewdrops, holding high revelry 
on lawn and bush. The birds warbled a merry 
greeting to their little mistress, and the fra- 
grance of a thousand blossoms tempted her to 
linger. She stopped to pick one branch of 
pink roses, and hurried on, to find Mr. Keith 
awaiting her in the oak grove. 

‘‘Good morning, Louise,” he said, extending 
his hand, as she camo up. “Punctuality is a 
cardinal virtue which all young ladies do not 
possess. I hope that Miss Lucinda did not sit 
up all night.” 

“No, indeed,” she cried, laughing at the no- 
tion; “I’m very sure that she did not.” 

“I beg her most humble pardon. Louise, do 
you know anything about rowing?” 

They had left the oak grove, and were walk- 
ing through the lower end of the Standish 
place. 

“A little. Papa has taught me. But he says 
that I must never go out alone. We have not 


22 


Over at Little Acorns. 


tried the new boat yet. I was so disappointed 
when papa told me he had to go right away 
again, for I thought I should have to wait until 
he came back. I never dreamed that you would 
be so kind as to take me.” 

Keith looked down at her with a comical ex- 
pression on his face. 

“ Since you are so smiling,” he said, “ I sup- 
pose that your last remark is not meant to be 
uncomplimentary ; but one might infer from it 
that I am ordinarily the most ferocious ogre of 
a person.” 

Louise’s countenance was the picture of blank 
amazement. Recalling her words, she colored 
with confusion, but said eagerly: ‘'You know 
I never meant that, Mr. Keith. You are not 
the least bit like an ogre.” 

“May I ask what an ogre is like, since you 
seem to know so well?” 

“Oh! an ogre is a dreadful sort of person, 
with a great, long beard and hair, and fierce, 
black eyes, and long, bony fingers, and a terri- 
ble voice; and he will never let any one do 
what they want to ; and if they make a fuss, he 
grabs them up and carries them off to his den, 
and — I — don’t know, Mr. Keith, but he eats 
them up, for they are never seen again.” 

This was all spoken very demurely, but ac- 
companied by a laughing flash of the dark eyes 
that Keith loved to see. 


Choosing. 23 

“Thank you,” he said. “It is so pleasant to 
know that I am not the least bit like that. But 
here we are at the river. Now, will you accom- 
pany me in the little craft which I often use, or 
are you going to invite me to try the wings of 
The River Bird?'' 

“Oh! that, of course,” she answered, rather 
incoherently. 

Keith took the key that she held out to him,, 
raising his eyebrows comically. 

“Since when has Miss Lucinda completed 
her studies in grammar?” 

“Oh! Mr. Keith, you do notice everything 
so ! I know I am always making mistakes. I 
hate to study, for my teachers are always so 
fussy. I thank you, though, for correcting me,” 
she added, shyly. 

“I think I could find some studies that you 
would not ‘hate.’ How would you like to try 
it, Louise? An hour or two of good, hard work 
these pleasant days would not be much of a 
task.” 

“Not with you!” she exclaimed enthusiastic- 
ally. “Oh! Mr. Keith, it would be lovely! I 
will ask papa the first thing when I go home, 
and — oh ! isn’t she a beauty ? ” she asked in the 
same breath, for they were afloat now, and the 
pretty boat danced lightly over the water. 

Keith smiled, and made no further reference 
to studies that morning. 


CHAPTEK III. 


A SURPRISE. 


“And God is best served by his servant 
When, smiling, he serves in the light, 

And lives out the glad tidings of Jesus 
In the sunshine he came to impart ; 

For the fruit of his word and his Spirit 
Is ‘love, joy, and peace’ in the heart.” 

— William Newell. 

HE next day Mr. Standish came to “ Little 



I Acorns ” in some perplexity. He found 
Keith and Janet in the garden, as usual. 

*‘Nay, do not rise, I beg you,” he said, as 
Keith began to dispose of some of the half- 
dozen volumes by which he was surrounded. 
‘‘I will help myself to a chair. My errand is 
with you, Mr. Dennet, and I scarcely know 
how to broach it. My little girl insisted on my 
coming over to see you before I go away. She 
tells me that you were kind enough to offer to 
occasionally assist her with her studies — that 
is, to have a little oversight of her work — not — 
ah! my dear sir, I hope you will take no of- 
fence; perhaps Louise did not rightly under- 
stand you. But she was so anxious that I 
should—” 

“Louise is quite right, Mr. Standish,” inter- 
24 


A Surprise. 


25 


Tupted Keith, amused at the struggle between 
the father’s desire to please his darling and the 
gentleman’s dread of seeming intrusive or pre- 
suming. “Louise understood me just as I 
meant it. A couple of hours’ work each day 
will do her no harm, and you must believe me 
sincere when I say that it will give me real 
pleasure to assist her so long as I am here.” * 

Mr. Standish’s face lost its troubled look, 
and he said heartily : “ Thank you. Louise has 
set her mind on this thing, and I did not know 
how to disappoint her. I dare say that she 
does need a bit of looking after, too. If her 
mother had lived, it would probably have been 
different ; but I have never had the courage to 
send her away from me, and I have not much 
opinion of the governesses that Bell has insisted 
upon. This, however, is another thing, and 
your kindness places us both under many ob- 
ligations to you, Mr. Dennet. I have but one 
condition to make : don’t give her too much to 
do, for I won’t have her losing her rosy cheeks 
and growing up.” 

They could not help laughing at this unex- 
pected ending, and Keith assured him that no- 
thing of the kind should happen. 

Louise came skipping across the lawn by this 
time, unable longer to restrain her impatience. 
She was greatly delighted with the arrangement 


26 


Over at Little Acorns. 


which had been made, and the details of which 
were soon completed. 

Keith found his little pupil much in need of 
systematic training, but so bright and appre- 
ciative that it was a pleasure to instruct her. 
Louise did nothing by halves. She threw her 
whole soul into the work, and was never so 
happy as when at Keith’s side with her books. 

“ What a busy woman you are getting to be ! ” 
said Janet, one morning, stopping to lay her 
hand lovingly on the dark head, as she crossed 
the room. Louise looked up from the Latin 
translation she was writing. 

“I ought to be very busy, and learn every- 
thing, with such a splendid teacher, Auntie 
Jean. I do think that Mr. Keith is better 
than all the governesses in the world put to- 
gether.” 

Janet smiled at her earnestness. 

“Well, I do! He is so patient and kind, and 
never acts as though he thought it was any 
trouble to explain things to a httle girl, as Miss 
Hart used to.” 

“I am glad you like your teacher, Louise; 
try to be always good and obedient to him. 
He has had much to make him unhappy, and 
needs a great deal of love and kindness now.” 

An hour or two later, Janet, who was sitting 
in the garden, saw Louise coming slowly from 


A Surprise. 


27 


the house. Her face was more sober and 
thoughtful than usual. She came and sat down 
on a stool at Janet’s feet, and rested her head 
on her lap. Presently she said : “Auntie Jean, 
there is something in my Bible verse for to-day 
that I don’t understand. Will you tell me what 
it means ? ” 

“If I can, I will certainly, Louise.” 

“It says, ‘Go ye into all the world, and 
preach the gospel to every creature.’ I asked 
Auntie Bell if this meant that everybody must 
be a minister, and she said she guessed not, 
but only a few. I don’t see how people know 
which few ; and it seems to me that some who 
are ministers are not half as good as some who 
are not. Now, Mr. Everett does not seem to 
me anything like as good as Mr. Keith.” 

“ That is only because you do not know and 
love him as well, Louise. He is one of the 
best of men. But, my dear, preaching is not 
merely standing in the pulpit on Sunday and 
reading or delivering a sermon. We all preach 
eloquently by our lives. I think this is par- 
ticularly true of Mr. Keith, as well as of many 
other ministers.” 

“ ‘Other ministers’!” cried Louise, springing 
up in great excitement. “ Why, is Mr. Keith a 
minister?” 

“Yes, Louise. Why are you so surprised? 


28 


Over at Little Acorns, 


You surely will not love him any the less,” said 
Janet, watching the expression of disappoint- 
ment and dismay which crept over the bright 
face. 

“ Oh ! no, of course not,” she began warmly ; 
^‘and — yet — it makes me feel half afraid of 
him, some way. I should never have dared to 
do as I have if I had known.” 

“You need not feel so, dear child. Come, 
sit down again, and I will tell you how beauti- 
fully his life preaches to me every day.” 

The next morning, before Louise came over 
for her lesson, Janet said to Keith, who was 
preparing a simple experiment in physics for 
his pupil; “It happened yesterday, while talk- 
ing with Louise, that I mentioned the fact of 
your being a minister. She had not heard of 
it before, and I suspect that she must have a 
sizable bump of veneration under her pretty, 
dark hair, for she seemed to stand in awe of 
you at once. I thought that it might be well 
to tell you — ” 

Just then the door opened, and Louise en- 
tered the room, not with her usual dancing 
footsteps, but shyly, almost timidly. Bidding 
them a low-spoken “good-morning,” she went 
quietly to work over her translations and pro- 
blems; then came the experiments, in which, 
she was greatly interested, but over which she 


29 


A Surprise. 

showed none of her customary enthusiasm. 
Once or twice Keith met her eyes searching 
his face half- curiously, half-doubtingly, only to 
see them withdrawn in confusion when he 
smiled. 

The lessons finished, she gathered her books 
together quickly, and was stealing from the 
room when she was called back. 

‘‘Louise, will you come here a moment?” 
Keith asked. 

Slowly she walked to his side; silently he 
took her books from her hands and placed 
them upon the table beside him. Then he 
drew her down on his knee. 

“What is the matter to-day, Louise? Are 
you not well?” 

“There is nothing the matter, Mr. Keith,” 
she began, and then, feeling that this was not 
strictly true, she stammered, “ only — only — I — 
I don’t want to tell you, please.” 

“Louise,” he said presently, “suppose your 
papa should go to Europe next week, and that 
before he went he should divide all his property 
between Jeanie and you and me; and that he 
left directions with me in regard to the money, 
how it should be used for you both, and so on ; 
and also instructions to be given to you when 
you should be old enough to understand them. 
In a word, suppose that he had made me his 


30 


Over at Little Acorns. 


representative to care for you in every way 
just as he would do if he were here. Do you 
understand what I mean? ” 

‘‘Yes, sir, I think I do,” said Louise, looking 
at him with curious eyes. 

“Now, do you think that you would love me 
any the less because your papa trusted you to 
my care?” 

“Why, no, of course not.” 

“Do you think you would feel as if I had 
suddenly become a great personage, of whom 
you should stand in dread, because I had 
charge of you and Auntie Jean for a while?” 

“No, Mr. Keith,” she said, forgetting her 
constraint, “ I don’t see how that would change 
you any.” 

“Then, my dear child, why are you so shy 
of me as soon as you learn that our heavenly 
Father has called me to be his servant, to min- 
ister unto the needs of his children as his stew- 
ard?” he asked, gently. 

Louise’s eyes fell, and her color rose pain- 
fully. It was very still in the room for some 
minutes — hours they seemed to her. 

“I — I never thought of it in this way before, 
Mr. Keith,” she said at length. “ I will try not 
to be afraid of you any more.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE ARCHERY CLUB. 

“Swift of foot was Hiawatha; 

He could shoot an arrow from him, 

And run forward with siich fleetness 
That the arrow fell behind him ! 

Strong of arm was Hiawatha ; 

He could shoot the arrows upward — 

Shoot them with such strength and swiftness 
That the tenth had left the bow-string 
Ere the first to earth had fallen.” 


— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



H! AUNTIE JEAN,” Louise exclaimed 


\_J joyfully, bursting into the pleasant 
breakfast-room at “Little Acorns,” one morning, 
“Cousin Helen and the boys are coming to- 
day. Papa just told me.” 

“How delightful! I find myself so happy 
with one cousin, I can scarcely imagine how it 
would seem to have four at once,” said Janet^ 
smiling across at Keith. 

“ Thank you, Jeanie. Your pretty words de- 
serve a graceful return, but, unfortunately, I 
find myself, in the ^language of another, ‘too 
full for utterance.’ ” 

This was said with a comical gravity which 
set Louise off in a gale of laughter. But she 
sobered down very soon. 


31 


32 


Over at Little Acorns. 


‘‘Papa says he has asked you for a holiday 
while they are here. That is the worst thing 
about it. I’d like to keep on with my lessons, 
now that I am so nicely started, and have a 
good time with them, too.” 

“You know. Miss Lucinda, the sad fate of 
those who try to sit on two chairs at the same 
time. You have studied faithfully these weeks, 
and now I wish you to have the happiest holi- 
day that ever was.” 

Words of praise from him were rare, and 
Louise flushed with pleasure as she heard them. 
But it would be hard to describe her joy 
when he took from its resting-place in a pretty 
blue velvet box a small gold cross of Genoese 
filagree work, and said, as he handed it to 
her: 

“Will you keep this, Louise, as a reminder 
of the pleasant month we have spent together 
with our books ; and also of my love for a dili- 
gent and obedient little scholar?” 

“Oh! thank you, Mr. Keith. It is a perfect 
beauty. Oh! I do thank you so much. See, 
Auntie?” ^ 

“Yes, dear, it is very beautiful, and I know 
you will prize it. Now if you will look on your 
study table you will find another gift which I 
hope will please you.” 

It was the work of but a moment for Louise 


33 


The Archery Club. 

to dart into the next room and bring back a 
bundle, which she untied with eager fingers. 

“Books!” said cried, delighted. Child's 
ffistory of England^ Charles Dickens; Long- 
fellow’s Poems, Miller’s Child Life in Japan'' 
Then she saw written on the fiy-leaf of each, 
“With Auntie Jean’s love, to studious Louise.” 

“Oh! Auntie dear, how can I thank you 
enough?” she exclaimed, kissing her many 
times. “It is so lovely to have all these books 
for my very own. You can’t think how rich I 
feel.” 

“I was quite sure that nothing less than 
Sprinted matter’ would please the taste of such 
a literary young lady as you are getting to be,” 
Janet remarked, mischievously. “I have seen 
the day, not so very long ago, when a doll that 
could talk and walk met all requirements.” 

Louise blushed, but said, decidedly, “And I 
love my dollies now, only I love my books 
better.” 

“ Oh ! that is the way of it,” said Keith, much 
amused, “I hope you will always be as loyal 
to old friends in the presence of the new. Miss 
Lucinda. And now, I should like to inquire 
about the equipment of the archery club. I 
am going to the city to-morrow, and can order 
the bows and arrows and other things, if you 
give me any idea of the sizes of the prospec- 
8 


34 


Over at Little Acorns. 


tiv6 members of the club. We might wait until 
they are here, but I do not know when I shall 
go again, and it is much better to make the 
purchases personally, if possible.” 

“I think I can tell you about them all. 
Helen is a year older than I am and a good 
deal taller, but not much stronger. Alec is 
sixteen, and almost as large as you are. Charlie 
is just my age, and a fat little fellow. Mac, 
who is cousin to us all, is fifteen, and about 
Alec’s size.” 

“Then we shall need three large bows, two 
medium-sized, and one small one.” 

“If you please, Mr. Keith, I think that 
Charlie would rather have one like Helen’s and 
mine, or perhaps a trifle larger. He doesn’t 
like to be small, you see, and I am sure that he 
could manage one of those.” 

“We will try to find the ‘happy mean’ be- 
tween Master Charlie’s muscle and his pride; 
thanks to his thoughtful cousin. Now I be- 
lieve I have all the necessary instructions. 
How soon can you and Miss Helen have your 
costumes ready?” 

“ In a few days. I’ll get Auntie Bell to take 
us to the village to-morrow to get the stuff for 
them. And Lucy can make them right away, 
I am sure.” 

The first meeting of The Little Acorns Archery 


The Archery Club. 


35 


Club took place the following Wednesday after- 
noon. Seats were arranged in a pleasant, shady 
spot; the audience was composed of the elder 
members of the families. These were Miss 
Janet Sylvester, Mr. Standish, Auntie Bell, Aunt 
Kate, who was the mother of Helen, Alec, and 
Charlie, and Uncle Ben, the father of Mac. 

The six members of the club looked very 
picturesque and extremely happy, as they 
bustled about, getting everything in readiness 
and chatting gaily with the audience between 
times. 

Louise and Helen wore suits of hemlock 
green, made with short kilted skirts and blouses. 
The boys wore blouses of the same color. All 
had broad belts of buff leather, buff neckties, 
long gauntlets of yellow leather, and small 
round caps of dark green, ornamented with a 
short, white ostrich feather, fastened on the 
left side with a small silver arrow. This arrow 
was the club badge. 

Handsome quivers, the gift of Mr. Standish, 
completed the costumes, which every one 
greatly admired. 

At exactly three o’clock Keith blew a whistle, 
and the club, bows in hand, drew up in a line 
facing their friends. Mac then stepped forward, 
and raising his cap, said ; 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, — We welcome you 


36 


Over at Little Acorns. 


to the first meeting of the Little Acorns Archery 
Club, and we beg that 

‘ If we shoot too low or shoot too high, 

You’ll pass our imperfections by.’” 

Laughter and applause followed, in which the 
club joined, as Mac’s greeting had not been 
rehearsed. Then came the announcement : 

“First trial. Miss Helen Norton.” 

There was a flutter of excitement as Helen 
stepped out and stood on the spot designated 
by Keith, while he selected her arrow and 
showed her how to place it. Helen was a 
slender girl, with long, dark curls and a bright 
face. She was old for her years, and consid- 
ered herself quite a young lady. 

She took aim with great care, and her arrow 
hit the target close to the bull’s-eye. A storm 
of applause and cries of “bravo,” “splendid,” 
“good,” “let’s see you beat that, boys,” greeted 
this effort, and Helen returned to her place 
with sparkling eyes. 

“Miss Louise Standish.” 

Louise went forward gracefully, but with a 
beating heart. In her excitement her hand 
trembled so that she could scarcely take aim, 
and her arrow fell to the ground several feet 
from the target. 

Again came applause and cries of “well 
done,” “better luck next time,” “practice makes 


The Archery Club, 


37 


perfect” ; tears rose to lier eyes, but she winked 
them bravely back, and laughed with the rest. 

“ Never mind. Cousin Louise,” whispered 
Mac, “Kome was not built in a day.” 

“Master Charlie Norton.” 

Charlie stepped out briskly, carrying a bow 
which was a good deal bigger than himself, and 
puffed out his cheeks while taking aim until 
he looked like a cherub. 

“ Hold on there, Charlie, you’ll explode,” cried 
Alec, and everybody laughed. A blow of the 
whistle brought silence, and away went Charlie’s 
arrow, hitting the target two inches outside 
Helen’s mark. 

“First-rate, my boy,” said Keith, and Charlie 
retired amidst deafening cheers. 

“Mr. Macdonald Caldwell.” 

Mac, “long-legged Mac,” drew up his bow 
and sent his arrow flying with such energy that 
it went whizzing far beyond the target. He 
bore the shouts of laughter which greeted his at- 
tempt with the greatest good humor, saying 
that a “bad beginning makes a good end- 
ing.” 

“I believe Mac did that on purpose, so 
Louise’s shot need not be the worst,” whis- 
pered Helen to her brother. There was no time 
for reply, as his name had been called. 

“ Mr. Alexander Norton.” 


38 


Over at Little Acorns. 


Although he seemed to take the best possible 
aim, his arrow did not come as near the centre 
as Charlie’s had done. And now came the time 
of greatest interest to Louise. 

“ Mr. Keith Dennet.” 

To her great disappointment, he did not score 
quite so close a record as Helen. The differ- 
ence was slight to be sure, but half-an-inch 
counts here as well as on a man’s nose, as 
Charlie remarked. 

On the second round, Louise improved upon 
her previous record, Mac hit the bull’s-eye 
squarely, and Keith came so near it that his 
ardent little admirer was comforted. The third 
round was not as good as the second. Every 
one listened with much interest to the reading 
of the final record. It was as follows : 

1st, — Helen Norton. 

2nd, — Alec Norton. 

3rd, — Keith Dennet. 

4th, — Mac Caldwell. 

6th, — Louise Standish. 

6th, — Charlie Norton. 

The attention of the audience was now 
-claimed by Keith, who said: “Ladies and 
gentlemen. The Little Acorns Archery Club, 
being now fully organized and equipped, will 
enter at once upon its regular practice, meeting 
here every morning, at nine o’clock, until further 


The Archery Club. 


39 


notice. Every Wednesday afternoon, at three 
o’clock, the members will be pleased to meet 
the friends who have done them the honor to 
be present to-day. They modestly hope ta 
show improvement in the noble sport, as time 
passes on. Thanking you, ladies and gentle- 
men, for your presence and generous applause, 
it gives me much pleasure to say that the exer- 
cises of the afternoon will be concluded by an 
adjournment to the garden at ‘Little Acorns.’ 
In behalf of its genial and public-spirited 
owner, Miss Janet Sylvester, I now invite the 
club and its friends to take tea with her.” 

Prolonged applause followed this welcome 
announcement, and they all strolled leisurely 
across the lawn. Beaching the grove, they 
found small tables, loaded with sandwiches, 
biscuits, cake, and fruit, set about under the 
trees, and they were soon busy disposing of all 
these good things. 

“Archery gives one an appetite. Miss Janet,” 
said Mac, helping himself to cold chicken for 
the third time. 

Uncle Ben looked across from his table with 
a droll smile on his face. 

“How thankful you should be to archery, 
my son,” he said, gravely. 

This raised a general laugh at Mac’s ex- 
pense. 


40 


Over at Little Acorns, 


“You ought to see the piles of fritters Mac 
stores away at school,” said Charlie, with his 
mouth full. 

“ My small brother is quite an expert, too,” 
Alec whispered audibly. 

Charlie grew very red in the face and devoted 
himself to his plate. 

“What a nice place this is,” remarked Alec 
presently to Louise. 

“Why, of course it is nice,” she replied, “it 
is Auntie Jean’s home.” 

“Louise thinks that ‘belonging to Auntie 
Jean’ is sufficient reason for anything being 
charming,” said Keith, smiling. 

“I know one thing here that I think is very 
nice indeed,” announced Mac, emphatically. 

“What is it. Cousin Mac?” asked Louise, 
eagerly. 

“ Somebody that isn’t a baby, if she is a girl, 
and doesn’t cry if she makes a bad shot.” 

“Oh,”, cried Louise, quite taken aback by 
this unexpected answer to her question. “You 
mustn’t praise me for that. The tears did 
come, because I was so sorry to miss, but I am 
a great deal too large to cry for anything like 
that,” she added, with much dignity. 

“Too large,” repeated Mac, surprised, then 
he said in a low tone, nodding his head myste- 
riously toward Helen, “just wait till you see 


41 


The Archery Club. 

lier majesty in one of her storms. Thunder and 
lightning, and earthquakes, too.” 

Louise could make nothing of this strange 
information and was looking greatly puzzled 
over it, when Miss Janet proposed that they 
should all go in the house and have some 
music. 

The pretty drawing-room seemed prettier 
than ever with so many bright young faces 
about the piano. 

Helen, who played very well for a girl of her 
age, gave them “The Blue Bells of Scotland” 
and an instrumental arrangement of “Annie 
Laurie ” as the only Scotch selections she knew, 
in answer to a request from Uncle Ben. Then 
Louise sang “Within a Mile o’ Edinboro’” very 
sweetly, although somewhat embarrassed by so 
large an audience. 

After that Mac’s violin was called for and he 
delighted them with several selections, ending 
up with a fantastic little hornpipe, improvised 
for the occasion and dedicated to the club on 
the spot. He also accompanied Helen in a 
couple of pieces. • 

Presently it was whispered about that Charlie 
had a cornet somewhere in the depths of his 
trunk, and Alec was despatched to fetch it. V ery 
soon, greatly to Charlie’s surprise, his beloved 
“horn” was handed to him with the polite re- 


42 


Over at Little Acorns. 


quest that he would favor the company. Rather 
shy, yet secretly delighted with the opportunity 
to display his skill, he took his place near the 
piano. 

Then began a series of inflations which Mac 
said would float a good-sized balloon, and every- 
body understood why his cheeks had puffed out 
so unaccountably in the archery contest. And 
everybody laughed, although they tried not to 
be so rude. But the comical flgure he cut 
blowing away at his cornet, which now and then 
poured forth a doleful shriek, or a prolonged 
wail, was too funny to be gazed at soberly. 
After a while, slowly but surely, he got through 
“Yankee Doodle,” and stood wiping the perspi- 
ration from his forehead. 

They cheered him roundly and begged for 
more. 

“It is rather too soon after supper, isn’t it 
Charlie?” asked Miss Janet, who suspected the 
cause of his shortness of breath. 

“Well, yes, ma’am, I think so,” he replied, 
with amusing emphasis. 

“We will excuse you then until some other 
time ; Keith, do you not think you can arrange 
quite a good little orchestra with all these mu- 
sicians ? ” she inquired. 

“I was just thinking of that very thing my- 
self, Miss Sylvester,” said Uncle Ben. “They 


The Archery Club. 


43 


can make first-rate music, and ifc will do them 
lots of good, too.” 

“An excellent suggestion,” replied Keith, 
“ and now by way of seeing what we can do as 
a chorus, let us all join in singing ‘Home, 
Sweet Home.’ First, though, as president of 
The Little Acorns Archery Club, I would re- 
commend that a vote of thanks be extended to 
our kind friend. Miss Janet, for the delightful 
entertainment she has given to the club and its 
friends. All who are in favor of this please 
manifest it by saying ‘ aye.’ ” 

A ringing “ aye ” sounded from all parts of 
the room, to which Janet responded by a bow 
and many smiles. 

Then, after a short prelude played by Helen, 
their voices mingled in the familiar strains of 
the sweet old song, and with numberless “good- 
nights” and merry farewells the little band de- 
parted, declaring the first meeting of their club 
to have been a perfect success. 


CHAPTEK V. 


ON THE RIVER. 

‘ ‘ For in this world is no one, certain ’tis, 

But that he sometimes doth or saith amiss.” 

— Geoffrey Chaucer. 



IHE Little Acorns Boat Club did not meet 


often after the coming of the cousins. 
For a morning or two Louise slipped away un- 
observed, but she soon discovered that Helen 
was apt to be awake at five o’clock, and she had 
no intention of sharing this pleasure with her. 

So Keith went alone, and, although he missed 
£is bright little companion, he had many a de- 
lightful hour in the early day. 

One morning, about a week after the first 
meeting of the archery club, he had not gone 
out until after breakfast, and it was nearly noon 
when he walked back from the river. Throw- 
ing himself down to rest on the grass by the 
wayside he fell asleep, and when he awoke he 
heard voices just on the other side of the hedge 
in whose shade he was lying. 

“Can’t you get Mr. Keith to take Charlie 
off somewhere ? ” Helen was saying. Louise 
laughed merrily. 

“Mr. Keith has a wonderful way of finding 


44 


On the River. 


45 


out things, Helen. He would be quite apt to 
discover why we wished to get rid of Charlie.” 

‘‘Well! Before I’d be so under the thumb of 
a prying old minister like him, I’d .” 

“Helen,” cried Louise, with flashing eyes, 
“you shall not speak so of Mr. Keith.” 

“ I guess I can say what I’ve a mind to,” re- 
torted Helen, loftily, “ and I guess, too, that if 
you weren’t so rich he wouldn’t pet you as 
much as he does. Why, you have no spirit, 
Louise Standish, not a bit more than a mouse 1 
If I were in your place, I’d show him how I’d 
drink in every word he says like law and gospel 
and never dare to do anything unless ‘ Mr. Keith 
says so,’ ” and the angry girl mimicked Louise 
exactly. 

Poor Louise listened to this outburst scarcely 
able to believe her ears. Her loving heart was 
cruelly wounded, and at the same time the art- 
ful taunt that she was lacking in spirit aroused 
all her pride. She was a child of strong pas- 
sions, although hitherto she had met with little 
to excite them. Her life had been passed 
largely with older people, and especially with 
her father, who never denied her anything. 
That she had not been entirely spoiled by this 
sort of a bringing, or rather, coming, up, was 
in a great measure to her gentle, affectionate 
disposition and to Miss Janet’s influence. The 


46 


Over at Little Acorns. 


latter, although no real relative, had taken the 
most loving interest in the motherless little girl 
ever since coming to live at “Little Acorns” a 
few years before, and Louise returned the love 
with all her warm heart. This was almost her 
first experience in meeting companions of her 
own age whose wills would be likely to conflict 
with hers. 

Helen was a girl of quick, imperious temper 
and a fondness for being first and carrying her 
point in spite of all obstacles. Bright and 
winning, with promise of much beauty, she was 
the idol of a weak, ambitious mother, whom 
she completely ruled. When she first came to 
“ The Acorns ” she was prepared to stand rather 
in awe of Louise as sole heiress of her father’s 
wealth. She had unfortunately heard this 
freely talked over at home. But when she 
found her a simple, unassuming little girl, 
whose dresses were not half so elaborate as 
her own fashionable costumes, and who did not 
have one thought of “ style,” she determined to 
manage the “child” as best suited her wishes. 

“Such a meek little thing, I can twist her 
around my finger and get lots of things just as 
easy as anything.” 

The twisting process did not, however, pro- 
gress very rapidly, for Louise’s gentle, “ I think 
Auntie Jean would not like to have us,” or, 


Or the River. 


47 


still more exasperating to the wilful girl, “ Mr. 
Keith said we had better not,” put a sudden 
stop to more than one “good time” planned 
for. 

At last Helen determined to put an end to 
this state of affairs. Just now she had set her 
heart upon a boat-ride. Mr. Standish had taken 
them out once or twice before he went away, 
and Keith several times since. But Helen’s 
great desire was that the boys should take 
Louise and herself out in The River Bird 
alone. She unfolded her plan to them first, 
and they, of course, felt perfect confidence in 
their ability to manage the boat. Then the 
three brought their arguments to bear on 
Louise, and it was during the discussion which 
followed that Keith had awakened from his 
nap. His first impulse was to jump over the 
hedge and enjoy the surprise his unexpected 
appearance would create, but Helen’s words 
kept him in concealment. 

A dead silence followed her angry speech, 
broken only by a prolonged whistle from Mac. 
He nodded his head to Louise, with a signifi- 
cant look, as much as to say, “I told you so.” 

Alec lay upon his back, lazily stripping the 
leaves from a long willow switch and apparently 
taking no notice of what was going on. 

“Fire away, Helen,” said Mac, as moment 


48 


Over at Little Acorns. 


after moment passed and no one spoke. “ Let’s 
have it all out. The thunder and lightning 
haven’t killed us. I guess we can stand the 
earthquake, too.” 

Instantly Louise remembered Mac’s myste- 
rious words in the garden, and a sober little 
smile flitted across her face. But only for an 
instant. A hard struggle was going on in her 
heart and she felt grave enough. Helen’s words 
rang in her ears and aroused a whirl of painful 
emotion. 

“ Can it really be that I am chicken-hearted ?” 
she was asking herself. “ That is what she said 
the other day. And how could she call Mr. Keith 
a ‘ prying old minister ’ ? Oh, oh ! I cannot 
forgive that anyway. And does she truly think 
I am stingy about my boat ? Am I ? She said 
they would think so if I wouldn’t let them have 
it, and that they would go without me. I think 
it would be nice to go just once. I am sure 
these big boys can manage her well enough. 
Perhaps papa didn’t mean not to go with them, 
but only Helen and I together.” Her face 
brightened at this thought, but conscience 
whispered, “you know better than that,” and 
the cloud settled down again. Those waiting 
on both sides of the hedge were very anxious 
to hear the words which should fall from her 
lips. For a while longer she remained silent 


On the River. 


49 


Little by little the poison was doing its work. 
Slowly the struggle ceased. 

“ I won’t have her think I’m tied down to him 
or anybody else,” was her conclusion, reached 
with flashing eyes and close- shut mouth. ‘‘If 
papa were here, I know he would let me go 
with Alec and Mac. They are almost as large 
and strong as he is.” 

Helen, meantime, was regretting her hasty 
words and fearing that she had really offended 
Louise so seriously as to make trouble. But 
she had not, in the least, given up her purpose. 
By hook, or by crook, that boat-ride must be 
taken. She was thinking what she could say, 
when they were all surprised, and one listener 
inexpressibly saddened, to hear Louise say, 
quickly and proudly : “ The River Bird belongs 
to me and we can go, of course ; so don’t let’s 
say any more about it. I’ll get Auntie Jean to 
ask Charlie to spend the afternoon with her. 
He always likes that.” 

Helen threw her arms around Louise in a 
transport of joy, kissing her many times and 
calling her the dearest girl in the world, the 
sweetest cousin, and cooing all sorts of affec- 
tionate nonsense in her ears. Mac threw up 
his hat and hurrahed three times for “the 
plucky little mistress of ‘The Acorns,’” but 
Alec kept quietly on pulling leaves from his 
4 


50 


Over at Little Acorns. 


switch. Helen turned on him rather indig- 
nantly ; “ Come, Alec, I should think you might 
thank Louise for being so good.” Before he 
could reply, Louise startled them all by burst- 
ing into tears. Then Alec jumped up and, 
putting his arm around Louise, tried to comfort 
her. But her head went down on his shoulder 
in the most forlorn way, and his kind words 
only made her cry the harder. 

“Now, Helen,” he said, in the decided way of 
which she was always secretly afraid, “you 
must stop all this teasing and bothering Louise. 
Don’t cry any more,” he whispered, pushing 
the hair back from her burning forehead. “We 
won’t go on the river at all, if you feel so about 
it. There, don’t, Louise, please don’t.” 

Helen, alarmed by the concessions her 
brother was making, and shrewdly guessing 
at the cause of Louise’s grief, knelt down by 
her side, saying, earnestly, “Will you forgive 
me, Louise, what I said about Mr. Keith? I 
didn’t mean it truly. I think he is splendid, 
only I was angry, and I always say things 
I don’t mean then. Won’t you forgive me? 
I’m sorry, indeed I am, and we can’t enjoy any- 
thing while you feel so unhappy.” 

Louise’s affectionate nature was not proof 
against words like these, so she lifted her face, 
and the kiss of peace was exchanged between 


On the River, 


51 


the two. Mac breathed a long sigh of relief, 
for tears were his special horror, and soon got 
Louise to laughing over his comical remarks. 
The storm was over, and sunshine sparkled 
everywhere except in Louise’s heart. That was 
heavy enough. She knew for the first time the 
torments of an unquiet conscience. 

The next afternoon, at five o’clock, the four 
cousins walked through the woods to the river. 
Everything had worked well for the success of 
their undertaking. Auntie Jean had, of her 
own accord, invited Charlie to drive with her, 
thereby taking a load from Louise’s mind. 
Keith went to the city on an early train. The 
others had all gone to dine with a friend who 
lived some miles away. So the coast was clear, 
and the party set forth in the gayest possible 
spirits, apparently. 

Why, Louise, I never knew before that you 
had so much fun in you,” said Helen, twining 
her arm about Louise’s waist, as they walked 
along the pleasant pathway. Louise laughed, 
but not in her usual happy way. Merry 'as she 
seemed, she felt a miserable weight on her 
heart and wished that the afternoon was over. 

As they approached the river, they saw some 
one making a boat fast to the landing. A 
moment more and Mr. Keith sprang up the 
steps and stood awaiting them. If he saw 


52 


Over at Little Acorns. 


blank dismay upon their faces, he did not ap- 
pear to do so. Before he could speak, Mac 
said, bluntly, “We thought you were in town, 
sir.” 

“And so I was, Mac, but a pressing duty 
brought me home early.” 

Meanwhile Helen was whispering to Alec, 
“We won’t back out now, whatever we do.” 

Keith assisted Mac in getting The River 
Bird from the boat-house, while the girls 
looked on with feelings easier to imagine than 
describe. 

“ So the pleasant day has tempted you, too,” 
he said to them, “I have been out an hour or 
more and had the misfortune to lose an oar. 
Allow me.” 

With his usual courtesy he helped them into 
the boat, and stood hat in hand, wishing them 
a delightful time as they pushed off. 

“That is one thing about Mr. Keith that I 
admire,” said Helen, tossing back her curls. 
“ He always treats us as though we were grown- 
up ladies, and not like little girls as everybody 
else does. Oh, how hot the sun is! Can’t 
you get us over in that shade, boys?” 

“Shouldn’t wonder, if we tried very hard,” 
replied Mac, good-naturedly. “ Hold up there, 
Helen, where are you steering to, I should like 
to know?” he cried, sharply. 


On the River. 


53 


Helen had insisted on taking charge of the 
tiller, and Lonise, now that she had yielded the 
main point, was too wretched to care for the 
lesser ones. So Helen held the cord and The 
River Bird took an erratic course. Now here, 
now there, it flew over the water from bank to 
bank, until Alec objected in a quiet but effec- 
tive way. 

“I say, Helen, if you only knew it, you are 
displaying your ignorance. Fellows never 
steer that way. They keep right along in the 
same direction, unless there is something to 
turn out for.” 

After this she did not veer about so much, 
and they found it really delightful on the now 
shady river. As they floated lazily along, dip- 
ping their hands in the water, sometimes sing- 
ing, sometimes enjoying the quiet motion of 
the boat in silence, Louise thought that after 
all no harm had been done by their coming. 
She felt as safe on the familiar river as in her 
own room, and could easily, she was sure, have 
managed the boat herself, if the boys had 
proved incapable. 

Mr. Keith was on the river, too. They 
passed him several times with gay salutes, 
which he returned as gaily. Gradually it grew 
dusk, and when it was too dark to see the 
opposite bank Alec proposed their going home. 


54 


Over at Little Acorns. 


There’ll be no moon to-night. What do you 
say, Louise ? ” 

“ Oh, I’m ready any time. Do just as the 
others wish.” 

Helen and Mac were willing, so they turned 
homeward. The shadows deepened each mo- 
ment and a few stars appeared as they glided 
swiftly over the smooth water. 

“Now, Louise, you see that nothing has hap- 
pened,” exclaimed Helen, triumphantly, “we 
have had a lovely time and gotten along just as 
well as if we had had fifty grown people with us.” 

“Kather better, I should say, if they were all 
to be in this boat,” observed Mac. 

“And aren’t you glad you came? Haven’t 
you had a grand ride ? ” 

“Yes, of course I’m glad,” Louise replied, 
the untrue words slipping off her tongue almost 
before she knew it. “I’m not going to let her 
know how miserable I am,” she said to herself ; 
“but, oh! I do wish I had never come. What 
will Auntie Jean and Mr. Keith think of me?” 

“Hullo there, Mac; what’s the matter?” 
asked Alec, as the boat turned suddenly and 
Mac bent over the side. 

“ That is what I should like to know. My 
oar has caught in something ; rocks, I guess.” 

“Eocks!” cried Louise, “there are no rocks 
here.” 


On the River. 55 

“Well, it’s caught in something, I know 
that.” 

He gave a quick, strong pull, the oar snapped 
and he fell backwards. In his efforts to regain 
his balance he struck Louise, and they both 
went over into the water. 

Helen screamed, “Oh! Mr. Keith, oh! Mr. 
Keith, come quick, come quick! Louise is 
drowning.” 

Almost before the words had left her lips his 
boat shot up near them, its lighted lantern 
gleaming brightly in the darkness. 

“Where?” he asked, throwing off his coat. 

“ Bight here ; and, oh ! Mac went, too,” sobbed 
poor Helen, distracted with fright. 

“Here, Mac, give me your hand,” cried Alec. 
“Helen, can’t you help? There you are, old 
fellow.” 

Mac scrambled into the boat dripping wet. 
“Where’s Louise?” were his first words, as he 
crouched, shivering, between them. 

“Mr. Keith has gone over after her. Hero 
he is now,” called Alec, excitedly, as Keith 
came swimming towards them, holding Louise’s 
head above the water. 

They managed somehow to put her in Keith’s 
boat, and he climbed in as quickly as he could 
and they rowed to the boat-house. Leaving 
the boys to look after Helen, he laid Louise on. 


56 


Over at Little Acorns. 


the grass and tried to revive her. In a few 
minutes she opened her eyes. 

“ What is it ? Take it away,” she said, faintly, 
shrinking from the glare of the lantern Keith 
held. “ Why, where am I ? ” she asked then in 
a dazed way. 

“You fell into the water,” said Keith, gently, 
“ and I want to carry you home now, for you 
are very wet. Do you feel any pain ? ” 

“No, sir.” Then her eyes flashed wide open 
:and she turned away with a shudder. “Oh! I 
remember now.” 

“Don’t try to remember anything, dear 
child,” he whispered. “You shall tell me all 
you wish to by-and-by.” 

Weak and faint as she was, Louise felt that 
her fault was both known and forgiven. She 
closed her eyes and presently felt herself lifted 
in Keith’s arms and being carried. “I am 
too heavy,” she murmured, “please let me 
walk.” 

She never remembered what reply he made, 
nor anything else that happened for a good 
while. 

It was a sober and silent little company 
which made its way along the now dark path 
to “Little Acorns.” As they came through the 
grove, Mr. Keith spoke for the first time. 

“Alec, do you think you can go in and tell 


On the River, 


57 


Miss Janet, very quietly, that Louise has gotten 
wet and that I am bringing her in there? Speak 
as though there was nothing alarming.” 

“I will try, sir,” replied Alec, glad to be of 
some use. Anything, he thought, would be 
better than the horrible silence which was be- 
coming so oppressive. 

The lamps had just been lighted in Miss 
Janet’s cozy sitting-room, and she was writing 
at her desk. She looked up brightly as Alec 
came in, and read the story of some calamity in 
his white face before she heard his words. 

“Cousin Louise got just a little wet while we 
were out boating, Miss Janet, and Mr. Keith 
wanted me to tell you that she was coming 
here.” 

Janet knew how to interpret such a message 
from Keith, and by the time that he reached 
the house things were in readiness for the wet 
and chilled children. There was hurry and 
bustle enough for the next hour, Janet and her 
maids with Louise, and Mac and Keith in the 
latter’s room. Helen and Alec were down- 
stairs waiting anxiously for somebody to 
come and tell them how Louise was. Helen 
had cried herself nearly sick, and Alec, in de- 
spair of consoling her, sat drearily watching 
the little pools of water which lay about the 
room. 


58 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“My poor little girl,” said Keith, kindly, 
putting his hand on Helen’s bowed head, when 
at last he came down, “I thought you had gone 
home long ago.” 

“I couldn’t until I heard whether — oh! Mr. 
Keith, will she die?” sobbed the remorseful 
girl. 

“No, Helen; but she is weak and ill from the 
shock. Just now she is sleeping, and I think 
she will have a quiet night. I am going over 
now to see if Auntie Bell has come home, and I 
think you had all better come with me and go 
directly to bed as soon as you have had your 
supper.” 

Helen never forgot the care he took of her, 
going with her to the door of her own room, and 
saying, as he bade her good-night, “ I will send 
you word how she is very early in the morn- 
ing. Try now and not think of it any more to- 
night.” 

“Yes, sir,” replied Helen, brushing away 
the tears. “Good-night, and thank you, Mr. 
Keith.” 

It was some time before the others returned, 
and they were naturally surprised to see him 
waiting on the veranda at that hour. He told 
them briefly of the mishap, and gave Janet’s 
message that Louise be allowed to stay with 
her for the night. 


On the River. 


59 


“Certainly, by all means,” said Auntie Bell, 
“ but I must go over and see her. How thank- 
ful I am that you were with them, Mr. Keith, 
and that Mark is not here now. I believe it 
W'ould kill him outright if anything serious 
should ever happen to Louise.” 


CHAPTEK VI. 

IN THE BOYS' ROOM. 

“ O for a Booke and a shady nooke 
eyther in-a-doore or out, 

With the grene leaves whisp’ring overhede, 
or the Streete-cryes all about ; 

Where I male Reade, all at my ease, 
both of the Newe and Olde ; 

For a jollie goode Booke whereon to looke 
is better to me than G-olde.” 

— Old English Song. 

1 1 1HE first thing that Helen espied when she- 
JL awoke the next morning was a note ad- 
dressed to herself, lying on the table near her 
bed. For a moment she lay looking at it 
sleepily, and wondering what it could possibly 
be. Then the events of the preceding evening 
fiashed through her mind, and she snatched it 
up eagerly. 

“Dear Helen,” it read, “you will be glad to 
hear that Louise slept well, and is feeling quite 
bright this morning. If you come over about 
ten o’clock, you can see her for a little while. 

“Your friend, 

“Keith Sylvester Dennet.” 

“How good he is!” she thought as she laid 
it down. “No wonder everybody loves him so 
60 


61 


In the Boys' Room, 

we’*. ^ow thankful I am that Louise is bet- 
ter i Only suppose that — ” 

She jumped out of bed and began dressing 
to banish the unwelcome thought, which, in 
spite of her efforts, came back again and again. 

“Suppose that Mr. Keith had not been so 
near us, could the boys have saved her ? And 
if they hadn’t, who would have been to blame ? 
All of us partly, but I the most, because I am 
the one who made Louise come when she did 
not wish to. Oh, dear! how I wish that I had 
never done it! I’m ashamed to see Mr. Keith 
or Miss Janet, and I don’t know what Uncle 
Mark will say when he finds it out. I think 
I’ll go now and tell the boys how she is.” 

By this time the last shining curl was 
brushed, and her toilet completed by a bow of 
scarlet ribbon tied around her plump throat. 
She went down the hall and knocked loudly 
on the door of the boys’ room. 

“Who’s there?” came in drowsy tones from 
within. 

“It is I, Helen. Mr. Keith has sent over 
word that Louise is better. Aren’t you glad ? ” 

“Well, if I am, you needn’t make such a 
rumpus,” responded Alec, still half-asleep. 

“Alec is such a bear sometimes,” she said to 
herself, as she went downstairs and wandered 
disconsolately about until breakfast was ready. 


62 


Over at Little Acorns, 


She was glad when the meal was over and all 
the questions answered. Everybody took it for 
granted that Mr. Keith had been with them, and 
Helen was not yet ready to tell them otherwise. 
As soon as she could get away she followed 
the boys to their favorite resort, a summer- 
house across the lawn. 

“What shall we do till ten o’clock?” she 
asked them, dolefully. “Mr. Keith said that I 
could go and see Louise then. But it seems as 
if the time would never come.” 

“Did he really say that?” asked Alec, ea- 
gerly. “I wonder if we can’t go, too, Mac?” 

“You can, if you wish to; I don’t,” retorted 
Mac, in such a savage fashion that they both 
looked at him in surprise. 

“ Of course I wish to see Louise and tell her 
how glad I am that she is all right,” said Alec, 
mth some warmth. 

“Oh! it’s all very well for you. You didn’t 
knock her over like a brute. I say, why can’t 
you let a fellow alone, you two?” 

He pulled his hat over his eyes, and rushed 
away before they could speak. 

“Poor Mac! He feels dreadfully about it, 
doesn’t he ? But we all know that he didn’t 
do it on purpose. He couldn’t help falling 
over.” 

“We could all have helped being there, 


63 


In the Boys' Room. 

though. I guess that Mac isn’t the only one 
who feels bad.” 

“So do I,” said Helen, trying to wipe her 
eyes unobserved. “Wasn’t it lucky that Mr. 
Keith happened to be near us ? ” 

“I think it did not ‘happen’ at all. Some- 
how I suspected, when I saw him at the land- 
ing, that he had found out all about it.” 

“Oh! Alec,” cried Helen, in dismay, “do 
you really think that he knew we were going, 
and never said a word, but just kept around, 
so that, if anything did happen, he could help 
us?” 

“I really do,” replied Alec, digging his pen- 
knife into the grass. 

Helen’s heart beat quickly, and her cheeks 
were crimson with shame. “How can I ever 
look him in the face again?” she was asking 
herself, when a shadow fell across her lap, and 
there he was. 

“I thought I should find you here,” he said> 
smiling. “ But where is Mac ? ” 

“He went off somewhere by himself,” re- 
plied Alec, rather constrainedly. “He seems 
to feel as if he is the only one of us to blame.” 

“He need not.” Helen dreaded to hear what 
was coming next, but Keith simply said: “I 
came over to tell you, Helen, that you can see 
Louise for a few minutes now.” 


64 


Over at Little Acorns, 


“Can Alec come, too, please?” 

“Yes, Alec can come, and I wish we might 
find Mac.” 

“I’ll hunt him, sir,” and Alec started off on 
the run. But it was in vain that he searched 
and shouted. No Mac appeared, and they set 
out for “Little Acorns” without him. 

Louise was in one of Miss Janet’s big easy- 
chairs in the sitting-room. She looked very 
sweet in her fresh white wrapper and the soft 
shawl which was around her shoulders. 

A strange shyness came over Helen as she 
crossed the threshold, and she stood hesitating 
by the door. Alec stepped before her, and 
took Louise’s outstretched hand in both of 
his. 

“I’m as glad as can be that you are so much 
better to-day. Cousin Louise. We were so 
frightened last night.” 

“Thank you, Alec. I’m a little tired, that is 
all.” 

Then she reached out a hand to Helen, and 
they kissed each other, but Helen could not 
speak. Her eyes were full of tears. 

“I’m glad you came, Helen, but auntie says 
I mustn’t talk much. Where is Mac?” 

Alec and Helen exchanged glances, and nei- 
ther answered. 

“ Mac is off on one of his expeditions,” said 


In the Boys^ Room, 65 

Keith, coming to the rescue ; “ he’ll be around 
after a bit.” . 

But Louise had noticed the embarrassment 
of her cousins, and guessed what the matter 
w^as. 

“Does Mac think — ” she began quickly; 
“I’m afraid he feels — Alec, will you please go 
find him, and tell him from me that I wish to 
see him right away?” 

“ Why, certainly, Louise, and glad to do it. 
We’ll have him here before you know it.” 

“And come again this afternoon, both of 
you. Good-bye.” 

As they walked back across the lawn, Alec 
looked down on the serious face beside him, 
and felt sorry for his usually merry-hearted 
sister. 

“I say, Helen, there’s nothing now to look 
so sorrowful about. Louise is all right, and we 
won’t get caught in that way again in a hurry. 
I’d take you along with me, but nobody knows 
how far I shall have to go to find Mac ; ’way 
over in the glen, probably. But there is a 
splendid book up in my room that you can 
read if you want to. It has a red cover, and is 
called The Forest Exiles. You’ll find it some- 
where around.” 

“Oh! thank you, Alec,” said .Helen, sur- 
prised and delighted, for Alec was always very 
5 


66 


Over at Little Acorns, 


choice of his books, and this was a most un- 
usual offer on his part. “I will be ever so 
careful. And may I stay in your room to read 
it?” 

“I don’t care, if you’ll only look happy 
again.” 

She hurried up to the boys’ room, while he 
turned off into a by-path in search of missing 
Mac. 

Helen soon found the book, and, curling 
herself in a big “sleepy-hollow” chair, was 
speedily absorbed in the adventures of Leon 
and Leona. More than an hour had passed, 
and she had not stirred, except to turn the 
pages. Suddenly the door was pushed open, 
and Alec entered, flushed and tired. 

“Yfell,” he exclaimed, throwing himself on 
the lounge, “I can’t find him. I’ve been every- 
where on the place, and no signs of Mr. Mac.” 

Helen looked up, half-frightened. It was an 
unwelcome return to the unhappy present. 

“Why, where do you suppose he can be, 
Alec?” she asked, in a low tone. 

“ I can’t think. He never went off so before. 
But he felt so bad, I suppose. Hang it all, 
Helen, what made us go, any way?” 

Helen, shocked and really frightened now at 
such language from her gentlemanly brother, 
and distressed by his gloomy face, began to cry. 


67 


In the Boys^ Room, 

‘‘I beg your pardon, Helen,” said Alec, 
springing to her side instantly. “ I don’t know 
how I came to speak to you so. There, don’t 
ery any more. Mac will be sure to turn up all 
right.” 

He put his arm around her, and she laid her 
aching head on his shoulder, ready* to sob out 
all her misery. But just at that moment a 
queer sound from the bed startled them, and 
they looked around to see Mac sitting up and 
rubbing his eyes sleepily. 

Alec took one stride to the middle of the 
room, put his hands in his pockets, and stared. 

“Well,” he cried at last, “if this don’t beat 
anything ! Here I’ve been ^running my legs off 
everywhere hunting for you, and scared half 
out of my seven senses because you were not 
to be found, ^nd, lo and behold, here you are 
snoozing away in our own bed! Come out 
here now, old fellow, and let me pommel you 
soundly!” 

“Why, Mac Caldwell, were you really there 
all this time ? ” asked Helen, in such a funny, 
dazed way that both boys laughed heartily, 
Mac couldn’t help looking a little sheepish, but 
he took their joking all in good part. 

“I must tell Louise about it the first thing 
this afternoon.” 

At the mention of Louise’s name Mac looked 
sober again. 


68 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“That reminds me,” continued Alec, “that I 
was trying to find you to give you a message 
from- Cousin Louise. She said I was to ask 
you to come over and see her as soon as you 
could. I think — ” 

But Mac was out of the room with one bound, 
and Alec’s sentence was never finished. 


CHAPTEK VIL 


A TWILIGHT TALK. 


“We rise by the things that are under feet, 

By what we have mastered of good or gain, 

By the pride disposed and passion slain 
And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.” 


— Josiah Gilbert Holland. 



IHE second evening after the accident, the 


three elder cousins were invited to “ Little 


Acorns” to take tea with Louise, who had not 
yet been home. Miss Janet and Charlie, with 
the friends at “ The Acorns,” had gone to a 
horticultural show in an adjoining town ; so it 
was left for Louise and Mr. Keith to do the 
honors. 

It had been arranged to have tea in the 
garden, but a sudden shower prevented, and 
they ate their peaches and cream in the supper- 
room, which Helen declared was the prettiest 
in the house. 

Louise, quite well again, presided at the tea- 
pot, and proved herself a charming hostess. 
Everything went along in the best possible 
manner, except that conversation flagged. It 
was the first time the four had met together 
since the unlucky boat-ride. Mr. Keith, how- 


69 


70 


Over at Little Acorns. 


ever, was in excellent spirits, laughing and 
talking without seeming to notice the constraint 
of his guests. 

Supper was over, at last, and the grass being 
wet, although the sun now shone brightly, they 
went out on the veranda and found pleasant 
seats there. 

“Now,” said Keith, “I must beg to be ex- 
cused for a few minutes, while I finish a letter 
for the evening mail.” 

They listened to the sound of his footsteps 
as he crossed the hall and heard the library 
door close behind him. 

“ I felt as though every mouthful would choke 
me,” said Mac, after a long silence. 

No one replied, but Helen looked as if she 
could understand such a state of things very 
w’ell. 

“Cousin Louise, do you think that Mr. Keith 
knew that we were going on the water the other 
afternoon, and stayed around purposely? ” 

“I don’t know exactly what to think, Alec. 
But it seemed, when he took me up to bring 
me home, that he did know all about our plan- 
ning, and everything.” 

“I wonder why he doesn’t say something. 
I wish he would.” 

“We are the ones to say something first, 
Alec,” said Mac, “ and I, for one, am going to 


A Twilight Talk. 71 

make a clean breast of it as soon as he comes 
back. I can’t stand it to feel so mean any 
longer.” 

Helen drew a quick breath and her cheeks 
burned crimson. 

“And I shall, too. We are older than the 
girls and ought not to have let them coax us 
when we knew that Uncle Mark had forbidden 
their going without either him or Mr. Keith,” 
said Alec. 

“I was the most to blame,” said Louise, 
gently. “Please let me tell him about it, 
boys.” 

“No. It must be I,” spoke up Mac, de- 
cidedly. “I did the mischief. If it hadn’t 
been for my oar, Louise and I would not have 
gotten our wetting.” 

And still Helen did not speak. She sat apart 
from the others in the shadow, and no one 
noticed her quickly-changing color nor her 
tightly-clasped hands, nor dreamed of the con- 
flict which was going on within her heart. 
Pride and conscience had a long, hard struggle, 
and then she braced herself for the confession 
she was going to make. It seemed to her that 
if she said one word her courage would desert 
her. 

At last the library door opened and Keith 
came out. He gave his letter to a waiting mes- 


72 


Over at Little Acorns. 


senger and then walked slowly down the hall. 
Mac and Alec sprang up at the same instant, 
but Helen was before them. As Keith ap- 
proached, she met him and said in a trembling 
voice, “ I wish to tell you, Mr. Keith, that I am 
the only one to blame for our going On the 
river the other night. I am the one who 
thought of it first and coaxed the boys to say 
that they would take us. Then I teased Louise. 
She didn’t wish to go because Uncle Mark had 
told her not to and so had you ; but I bothered 
and plagued her and said dreadful things about 
you. I told her that I would not be ruled over 
so by anybody, and that she was mean and 
selfish with her boat, and a lot more hateful 
things. So at last she said that she would go, 
but it was all my doing, really. I’m just as 
sorry as I can be, and would give anything if I 
hadn’t done it. Please, Mr. Keith, don’t blame 
the others, for it wasn’t their fault at all.” 

Sobs choked her voice and, covering her 
face with her hands, she cried bitterly. 

Several times while she was speaking, the 
boys and Louise tried to interrupt her, but 
Keith raised his hand to check them. He now 
put his arm around the unhappy girl and said, 
kindly, “ My dear Helen, if your fault were ten 
times as great, your noble confession would 
have won its pardon. I have freely and fully 


73 


A Twilight Talk. 

forgiven you all, long ago, and I believe that 
you are each one truly sorry for your wrong- 
doing. But come, sit down ; I want to have a 
little talk about that unfortunate boat-ride.” 

First, Mr. Keith,” said Mac, determined not 
to lose the change of unburdening himself, 
‘‘Alec and I want to say that even if Helen did 
make the first suggestion, we should not have 
promised to take them. I cannot tell you how 
much we regret having done so.” 

“ And I, Mr. Keith, I was worse than Helen, 
for I got so angry with her and was so proud. 
I said that I would do just as I pleased with 
my boat. I was as naughty as I could be to 
you and papa, both of you.” 

Keith listened to them each in turn, and 
looked down on their upraised faces with a full 
heart. 

“Your sorrow and penitence, my dear chil- 
dren, cannot be any more truly sincere than 
my forgiveness for whatever wrong feelings you 
may have had toward me. You have each done 
what you see now was far from right and have 
suffered for it as we all must for transgression. 
Have you remembered to confess it to the one 
who loves you best and grieves most over your 
shortcomings? ” 

Alec stole a quick look at Mac, whose eyes 
never left Mr. Keith’s face. Helen blushed 


74 


Over at Little Acorns. 


deeply, and looked both surprised and em- 
barrassed. Louise glanced from one to another. 
No one replied until at last she said, in a low 
voice, “ God seems so far away. Does he really 
care ? ” 

“We have every reason to believe so. 
Louise, if I should give you something very 
beautiful, say a rare jewel, or an exquisite pic- 
ture, of which would you think the most, the 
gift or the giver? ” 

“Why, you, of course. What a queer ques- 
tion to ask.” 

“And do you not know, dear child, that every 
one of your friends, your papa, your home, 
your health, your strength, the air you breathe, 
the very light of heaven itself are the gifts of 
the one who loves you better than any one else 
can, of your Creator? Who besides him could 
care more earnestly to have you do right? ” 

“ I never thought of that before, Mr. Keith,’ 
said Mac. 

After a few more words of kindly counsel, 
they knelt together, and Keith expressed the 
wish of each heart in simple, earnest phrases 
which no one of the four ever forgot. 

“I think Mr. Keith is lovely,” said Helen to 
Louise, lingering a moment at her door. “I 
never thought a minister could be so nice.” 

“ Neither did I,” confessed Louise, frankly. 


75 


A Twilight Talk. 

“But then I never knew one before. I felt 
dreadfully when I first found it out, but I like 
him better than ever, now.” 

Helen hesitated a little, then she threw her 
arms around Louise’s neck. 

“Dear Louise, will you forgive me? I felt 
worse toward you than any one else. You don’t 
know how horrid I was, and I had my own way> 
but I have been so unhappy.” 

“Please let us never speak of it again, Helen. 
We were both naughty. I am going to ask 
Jesus to help me ; will you?” 

“I don’t know,” said Helen, slowly. “It’s 
not much use for me to try, for I shall be sure 
to fly in a passion the first time things go to 
vex me. I always do.” 

“Well, Helen, I am sure he would like to 
have you because he loves you so much, you 
know. I will ask him for you, if you don’t 
wish to, shall I ? ” 

“ Oh, I wish you would,” said Helen, sigh- 
ing, “and maybe I will sometime. I’d like to 
be a good girl, too.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE SILVER-TIPPED BOW. 

“Robin Hood perceiving Friar Tuck to be a bold fellow 
invited him to join his band. The Friar replied that if he 
had a man amongst his followers who could beat him at 
the long bow, he would do so. Little John accepted the 
challenge, and proving himself a better archer than the 
Friar, the latter was persuaded to join the band .” — Robin 
Hood Ballads. 

THO is going to the archery grounds?” 

V V asked Charlie, at the breakfast table. 

“I, for one,” replied Mac. “I’ve missed one 
or two mornings, and that soon tells on a 
fellow.” 

“I, for two,” said Helen. “I wouldn’t miss 
it for anything, it is such fun. Would you, 
Louise?” 

“No, indeed; and that reminds me, Mac, will 
you please see what is the matter with my belt 
buckle ? It won’t go through the place — I 
don’t know what the name of it is.” 

“Let me have it directly after breakfast, will 
you? I’m -going to the village with Alec, and 
shall stop at the archery grounds as we come 
back.” 

“ Oh ! then you can get the mail. I do hope 
there’ll be a letter from papa. When do you 
think he will come home. Auntie Bell ? ” 

76 


77 


The Silver -Tipped Bow. 

“That is a hard question to answer, Louise. 
Your papa’s comings and goings are uncertain 
things.” 

“ I wish it would be soon ; I miss him so 
mucli. It seems as if he had never been gone 
so long before.” 

The mending of the belt took but a few 
minutes. Then the girls, in their pretty green 
dresses and caps, went with Charlie to practice 
shooting, and Alec and Mac started off for the 
village in the dog- cart. Charlie had managed 
to use his big bow with a good deal of skill, 
and they were all becoming quite accustomed 
to hitting the bull’s-eye oftener than they 
missed it. They were also gradually increas - 
ing the distance between themselves and the 
target, while rosy cheeks and firm, hard muscle 
testified to the healthfulness of the sport. 
After an hour’s good work they threw them- 
selves down on the grass to rest. 

“ I think it is time for the boys to be coming 
back,” said Louise, impatient for the hoped-for 
letter. “I’m going to run out to the road 
and look down the hill. Anybody want to 
come ? ” 

“Not I,” and “No, I thank you,” said Charlie 
and Helen at the same time, and the latter 
added, “ This cool shade is too comfortable to 
leave.” 


78 


Ove7' at Little Acorns. 


So Louise ran off. Charlie watched her trim 
little figure flying over the grass. 

‘‘Louise is a nice girl, isn’t she, Helen? But 
I should think she would want some brothers 
and sisters. It must be just lonesome here 
when we are gone.” 

“Louise has a sister, Charlie; don’t you 
know?” 

“Oh! you mean Marcia. I thought she was 
dead.” 

“Nobody knows whether she is or not. She 
went away a great while ago, and I think they 
never hear from her. I am sure Louise thinks 
she is dead. But mamma said that we must 
never talk to her about it, for Uncle Mark 
would not let us come here any more. He 
never speaks of Marcia.” 

“Well, I think it is pretty mean of him 
to ” 

“ Hush 1 Here they come,” interrupted Helen. 

The cart was seen rapidly approaching with 
Louise perched on Mac’s knee, waving aloft two 
letters. 

“ Only think, Helen,” she cried, as they came 
nearer, “and both from papa.” 

“Nothing for you this time, Helen,” said 
Alec. “ Here, Buster, don’t you want to drive 
the pony around to the stable? Mac and I 
must have a turn at the target now.” 


79 


The Silver-Tipped Bow, 

Buster, otherwise known as Charlie, was quite 
ready to do the service, and was just starting 
off when Louise, who had been reading her 
letters, called out : “ Oh ! wait a minute, Charlie. 
I want you to hear what papa says. Just 
listen, all of you.” 

*‘I hope,” he wrote, “that you are all enjoy- 
ing the archery practice. It will make you 
both strong and graceful. Have you improved 
at all since I left ? I remember very well how 
proficient you each were when I saw you last, 
and I am going to bring a silver-tipped bow to 
the one who has made the greatest improve- 
ment. I shall probably be at home in a week 
from the time you receive this.” 

This announcement caused much excitement 
among the members of the club. Uncle Mark 
was declared to be a “brick,” a “regular dear,” 
“perfectly splendid,” and plans were at onco 
made for as much extra practice as could possi- 
bly be crowded into the next few days. Oddly 
enough, no one thought of telling Mr. Keith of 
the prize that had been offered to the club 
until late that same evening. They were all 
sitting on the porch and about to separate for 
the night, when suddenly Mac startled every 
one by jumping up and exclaiming excitedly: 

“It’s the most confounded shame I ever 
heard of.” 


80 


Over at Little Acorns. 


‘‘Why, Mac,” reproved Auntie Bell in a 
shocked tone. 

“What on earth is the matter with you, old 
fellow?” cried Alec, wondering. 

The girls simply looked at him, too much 
astonished to speak. 

“I beg your pardon, Auntie Bell,” he said, 
“but — why, just think — we’ve never told Mr. 
Keith about Uncle Mark’s prize, and here we’ve 
been practicing all day, and he is a member of the 
club. Isn’t that a nice way for us to treat him ? ” 

They all looked at each other in silent con- 
sternation. 

“ How could we forget him ? ” 

“Well, it is all up now, of course.” 

“I’m ashamed to tell him after this.” 

“ What shall we do about it ?” 

These were some of the remarks which were 
uttered after a few minutes’ thinking over the 
unfortunate “fix,” as Alec called it, they were 
in. Then no one spoke for some time. Finally 
Charlie said: “Oh! say now, don’t all get the 
dumps in such a hurry. Mr. Keith won’t care 
two cents about it. He’ll think it’s a good joke 
on you, and you know, ‘there’s no use crying 
over spilled milk.’ ” 

“Just hear grandfather,” and Alec mimicked 
Charlie’s drawl so exactly that they couldn’t 
help laughing. 


81 


The Silver- Tipped Bow. 

“You may laugh at Charlie,” said Auntie 
Bell, who all this time had been an interested 
listener, “but his advice is full of good hard 
sense, as the saying is. The mischief is done ; 
you certainly were not very civil to Mr. Keith, 
but it will do no good to mourn over it now.” 

“But do you think. Auntie,” asked Louise, 
“that it will be really and truly fair to try for 
papa’s bow now?” 

“Yes, dear, if Mr. Keith is willing. Go over 
in the morning and tell him all about it, and 
leave it with him to decide what shall be done.’' 

This arrangement seemed satisfactory, and 
the long faces shortened considerably. Never- 
theless, it was a rather sheepish delegation 
that waited on Keith very early the next day. 
He listened with the utmost gravity, but a good 
deal of secret amusement, to Mac’s statement of 
the case. “You see, Mr. Keith, we have not 
the least shadow of an excuse. We just forgot 
you, out and out, in our ‘ every-fellow-for-him- 
self’ scramble. We went ahead planning for 
our own extra shooting, and never remembered 
that there was anybody else in the whole nation 
but our stupid selves. We’re awfully sorry 
now, of course, but we haven’t the face to tell 
you so.” 

“Never mind about that, so long as I am not 
to be left out entirely,” said Keith. “ Suppose 


82 


Over at Little Acorns. 


we go now, and I’ll make up some of my lost 
time. It will never do for me to lose the prize, 
you know, even if you have tried in such a neat 
way to lessen my chances of winning it,” he 
added, roguishly. 

“We can stand all his teasing,” whispered 
Alec to Louise, “so long as he does not feel 
hurt over our rudeness.” 

“Yes, indeed,” said she; “I think we ought 
to.” 

Mr. Standish came at the appointed time and 
displayed to the admiring club the beautiful 
bow which was soon to become the property of 
one of their number. 

The contest took place one lovely, cool morn- 
ing in the presence of the assembled house- 
holds. Every one did his and her best, and, 
amid much excitement and applause, the prize 
was won by Alec. Surprised and delighted, 
too, he accepted the silver-tipped bow from the 
hand of his uncle with a few graceful words of 
thanks. 

“I say,” whispered Charlie, who secretly en- 
vded his brother’s ease of manner and self-pos- 
session, to Louise, “Alec’s getting quite a dude, 
upon my word.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


AU revoir:^ 


Though the circling flight of Time should And us 
Far apart, or severed more and more, 

Yet the Farewell always lies behind us. 

And the Greeting always lies before us.” 


— Unknown. 



IHE remaining days of the cousins’ visit 


passed all too swiftly. Archery practice 
was regularly attended to; tennis received 
almost as much attention, while long walks, 
rides, picnics, and perpetual visits to Miss 
Janet’s garden filled up the measure of the 
happy hours. 

Mac was regarded by the other visitors with 
envious eyes, because he was to remain at 
‘‘The Acorns” until Christmas, possibly all 
winter. His eyes were giving him some trou- 
ble, and the physican whom his father con- 
sulted, advised several months’ longer rest 
from study. This was a great disappointment 
to ambitious Mac; but his Uncle Mark’s in- 
vitation to spend his enforced holiday with 
Louise was a good deal of a compensation. 

“Pooh, it isn’t such a grand thing after all,” 
said Charlie, rather contemptuously. “You’ll 


83 


84 


Over at Little Acorns. 


not find it quite so jolly here, when you have 
nobody but a girl to have fun with. Girls 
can’t coast, nor build snow-forts, nor skate, 
nor anything, hardly. They are so tender, the 
little dears.” 

Every one laughed but Mac. He fired up at 
once: “I’d rather be a girl than a boy that 
isn’t a gentleman, Charlie Norton, and I think 
that Louise and I won’t have any trouble to 
find good times.” He tossed back his thick 
locks, and his eyes flashed angrily. 

“Especially if you are always so amiable 
and lovely,” said Helen, glancing up from her 
book. 

A quick reply was on Mac’s lips, when he 
felt a soft hand slipped in his, and Louise 
whispered, “Please don’t, Mac. Auntie Jean 
says, ‘ a soft answer turneth away wrath.’ ” 

Eor a second he felt tempted to push her 
away and utter the hateful words he had ready 
for Helen. He bit his lip to keep back the 
angry retort ; the “ soft answer,” he could not 
manage to give. In another moment he sprang 
up and rushed off in whirlwind fashion. 

“ Gone to let off steam, like the old locomo- 
tive he is,” said Charlie. “You never can tell 
when Mac gets to the exploding point.” 

“Mac is all right till he gets stirred up,” 
remarked Alec, quietly. “ If you want to keep 


RevoirT 


85 


on his right side, Charlie, you mustn’t pitch 
into Louise in that fashion. Gentlemen never 
say rude things about ladies.” 

Alec spoke so seriously that Charlie looked 
up in surprise not unmingled with confusion. 
He stole a quick glance at Louise, who was 
smiling. 

“Cousin Louise knows that I didn’t mean to 
be rude to her, and everybody knows that 
girls cannot do half as much as boys can ; can 
they, Mr. Keith ? ” 

He appealed suddenly to that gentleman, 
who came toward them at that moment. 

“ That is a rather broad question, my boy ; 
can you not make it more definite ? ” 

• “ I mean that they cannot swim, and play 
ball, and climb trees, and — well, lots of other 
things^ too.” 

“ I have known young ladies, and girls, too, 
who were accomplished in all those sports. It 
is true that they have, as a rule, less endurance 
than your brave sex ; but I have noticed that 
they possess other characteristics which offset 
this lack in the minds of most young men.” 

A burst of laughter from the group greeted 
this remark, and Charlie looked decidedly crest- 
fallen. 

“You see,” explained Alec, “Charlie has 
been running Mac because he is to have ‘ only 


86 Omr at Little Acorns. 

a girl’ for a comrade this fall, and you have 
helped him out on the wrong side of the argu- 
ment.” 

“Oh, I see. I dare say that Charlie will be 
won over to our way of thinking in the course 
of a few years. But I am forgetting my errand. 
Auntie Bell wished me to say that a party of 
young people from the village has just arrived 
at the house. Nell and Harry Parks and sev- 
eral others, among whom I am sure, Helen, I 
caught the gleam of brass buttons.” 

They all sprang up, and began gathering 
their books and shawls. 

“Now, where is Mac?” asked Helen; “he 
will be so sorry to miss seeing the girls and 
boys.” 

“ Oh, you know he rushed off up the hill 
a while ago. There is no telling where he is 
by this time.” 

“I am going over to the quarry. Perhaps 
I’ll see him, and I’ll send him down, if I do,” 
said Keith. 

He bade them good-bye as they started off 
for home, and walked quickly into the deeper 
woods, keeping a sharp lookout for Mac. Be- 
fore long he spied him, lying on the grass 
v^th his face hidden in his hands, sobbing 
bitterly. 

“ Why, Mac, my dear boy,” exclaimed Keith, 


*^Au RevoirT 


87 


with much concern, ‘‘are you ill? Can I not 
do something for ” 

But Mac wrenched himself almost violently 
from Keith’s hands, muttering, “ I’m not sick ; 
I only want to be let alone.” 

After a minute Keith spoke again: “I 
promised the girls to tell you, if I saw you, 
that there is company from the village at 4}he 
house, and they want you to come down as 
soon as you can. And — , Mac, if you are in 
trouble, remember that there is one who is 
ready to help you.” 

Beneath his rather brusque, reserved exterior, 
Mac both enjoyed and suffered more than any 
one imagined. Since the death of his mother, 
four years before, he had confided in no one. 
He loved his father, but his whole heart had 
been wrapped up in his mother, whose life was 
sweet and lovely. As he lay there, looking up 
at the leafy arch above him, his thoughts went 
back to a summer day when she had used the 
same words Louise had spoken to him. He 
was a little fellow then, playing with a boy of 
his own age. Something, he had forgotten 
what, had happened to displease him, and 
soon angry words were fiying from one to 
another. His mother had looked up from her 
sewing and said, quietly, “My son, bring me 
the Bible.” 


88 


Over at Little Acorns. 


Wondering, he obeyed, and stood by her 
side while she found the place and read 
alond. 

“ Do you understand that, Mac ? ” she had 
asked, after she explained it to him. 

“Yes, mamma.” 

“Now, you read it to me,” she said, pointing 
with her needle. 

He did so, and she closed the book. 

“ Now, say it for mamma twice.” 

“*A soft answer turneth away wrath,’” fell 
slowly from his lips. 

“Don’t you think it is a pretty verse, my 
dear little boy ? ” 

“Yes, mamma,” he said, throwing his arms 
around her neck, “ I’ll try to ’member next 
time.” 

Then, with a loving kiss, he had gone back 
to his play, and no more angry words were 
heard. 

The tears rolled ^own his cheeks now, and 
he cried, “Oh! mother, mother! if you were 
only here ! I can’t be good without you.” 

Presently he became calmer, and his thoughts 
turned to Keith. His face burned with shame 
as he recalled his great rudeness to this kind 
friend. But, mortified and distressed as he 
was over this burst of temper, he had felt that 
he could not endure to be seen by him, to say 


'‘^Au Bevoir. 


89 


nothing of listening to the gentle words he 
knew he would speak. 

“A pretty Christian he’d think me, if he had 
heard me,” he thought, with a curl of his lip. 
“It’s no use trying; I might as well give up 
first as last.” 

Quite late that evening, as they were all sit- 
ting on the broad portico after the guests had 
departed, they heard Keith’s quick step on the 
gravel walk. Louise sprang to meet him. 

“ Oh, Mr. Keith, I’m so sorry you couldn’t 
have come a little sooner. We have had such 
a pleasant time, and the girls wished to see 
you so much.” 

“That was kind of them, I am sure. I ex- 
pect I shall be doing the very same thing for 
the next six months — ‘ wishing to see you so 
much. ’ ” 

Several pair of eyes were turned to his with 
a puzzled expression in them. 

“I don’t understand you, Mr. Keith,” said 
Louise, at last. 

“I do,” cried Helen, “you are going away.” 

“You are right, Helen. I have had an un- 
expected summons to Philadelphia, and must 
leave early in the morning. I came over now 
to say good-bye.” 

A chorus of regrets rose from the children. 

“I say, Mr. Keith,” said Charlie, “we are 


90 


Over at Little Acorns. 


going home Thursday morning. Can’t you 
wait over? It would be so jolly if you could 
go with us.” 

“Oh, yes; can’t you, Mr. Keith? and stop 
at Biverdale ? Mamma would be so glad to 
have you,” Helen urged, eagerly, while Alec’s 
more quiet, “We would do everything we 
could to make it pleasant for you,” was no less 
earnest. 

“ Thank you all very much. I half-promised 
Mrs. Norton, before she left, that I would stay 
over with her at least one day on my return to 
Philadelphia this fall; and I regret exceed- 
ingly that I cannot do so. When I come 
back next summer I will try to make my word 
good.” 

“Next summer!” cried Louise, finding her 
voice for the first time, “aren’t you coming 
back till then? ” 

“Probably not. Miss Lucinda,” he said, 
smiling at her doleful face. 

Giving each of the others a hearty hand- 
clasp and special farewell word, he came back 
to her. 

“I think I shall leave your good-bye until 
morning, if you can come over by six o’clock. 
I have some books for you and a message to 
that little lame friend of yours up at the quarry. 
Will you come? ” 


Revoir. 


91 


“ Of course I will,” she replied, glad that this 
was not to be her last sight of him. 

As she ran up the steps at “ Little Acorns ” 
the next morning, the great hall door was 
already open, and just inside stood Keith’s 
trunk and valise. Passing along to the break- 
fast-room, she found him alone at the table. 

“My dear Louise,” he said, rising to meet 
her, “ this is good of you to be here so early. 
Come, now, and pour my coffee. Jeanie has a 
headache this morning.” 

In the novelty and excitement of the break- 
fast tete-a-tete, she forgot all about the part- 
ing, and they had a merry time. But it came 
to an end at last ; then he gave .her two or 
three books to read, and another to carry to 
lame Jennie up the hill. And yet there were 
a few minutes before the carriage came. 

Louise tried very hard to be brave about 
this going away, for Mr. Keith had told her 
how much he was needed at the mission. 
But she could not quite keep the tears back. 

“It is only a little while sooner than I should 
have gone, in any case,” he said, gently. “ I 
had determined that Christmas must end my 
long holiday.” 

“Yes, I know,” she said, “but, oh! Mr. 
Keith, I shall miss you so dreadfully.” 

“ I know you will, dear child ; and I shall 


92 


Over at Little Acorns. 


miss you, too. But it will help along a good 
deal if Miss Lucinda could make up her mind 
to be so very kind as to write me a letter once 
in a while.” 

“ Oh, how lovely ! ” she exclaimed, brighten- 
ing at once. “You always do think of the 
nicest things. And Mac will write, too.” 

They went out on the terrace together, and 
the last words were cheery ones, after all. 


CHAPTEE X. 

LOUISE AND MAG. 

“ I cannot choose, but think upon the time 

When our two lives grew like two buds that kiss 
At lightest thrill from the bees swinging chime, 

Because the one so near the other is. 

We had the selfsame world enlarged for each. 

By loving difference of girl and boy. ” 

— George Eliot. 

O N the Thursday following Keith’s depar- 
ture, Alec, Helen, and Charlie bade adieu 
to Standish Hall. The boys were soon to enter 

the X preparatory school, while Helen 

was to fulfil one of the ambitions of her life 
and attend boarding-school. It seemed very 
Ijnely after their departure. Mac wandered off 
somewhere every day; Auntie Bell was always 
busy ; Mr. Standish was still away ; and Louise 
found time hanging heavy on her hands. 

So it happened that a listless, sober little girl 
appeared at “ Little Acorns,” roaming about 
the garden and pleasant house like a bee from 
flower to flower ; but, unlike that busy creature, 
doing nothing at all. Auntie Jean felt sorry 
for her, but said not a word to help her. 

One day when she had been curled up on the 
93 


94 


Over at Little Acorns. 


sofa for a long time, apparently asleep, she 
said, “Auntie Jean, 'what did I do all the time 
before Mr. Keith came ? It seems so different 
now.” 

“You were away with your papa a great 
deal ; and when you were here you played with 
your dollies, and the flowers, and you used to 
read to me, and do a good many other things. 
Yfhat makes it seem different now? ” 

“The days were never so long then, and I 
always had plenty to do. Now it is lonely and 
nothing is nice any more,” she replied, for- 
lornly. Miss Janet laughed. 

“ I wonder if Keith would consider that a 
compliment. It certainly is quite the opposite 
for those of us who are still here.” 

Louise was off the sofa in a twinkling and 
had her arms around Janet’s neck. 

“You dear, darling, naughty Auntie Jean”! 
she cried between the kisses. “You know I 
did not mean you, nor Auntie Bell, nor Mac — 
but — but — things,” she ended up in a funny 
way. 

Janet put away her sewing and took Louise 
on her lap. 

“Shall I tell you what makes the difference 
between those days and these ? ” 

“Oh! please. And tell me how I can be 
happy again.” 


Louise and Mac. 


95 


Janet kissed the quivering lips before she 
asked, “Where is Mac to-day? ” 

“Oh! off somewhere, I suppose,’*’ answered 
Louise, carelessly. 

“And where was he yesterday ? ” 

“ In the woods, probably,” said Louise, rather 
surprised at the question. 

“Does he go off so every day?” 

“Yes. Auntie Bell says he is never in the 
house.” 

“ Do you not think it strange that he should 
do so?” 

“I never thought about it. Auntie Jean. But 
I remember now that he did not always do so.” 

“ Who is there now at the house for him to 
be with?” 

“Nobody but me.” 

“And how many days since the others went 
away have you spent at home ? ” 

“Not one. I have been over here or in the 
garden when I was not practicing my music 
lesson,” she replied, not yet seeing what all 
these questions meant. 

“Do you think that Mac would enjoy stay- 
ing about the house alone all day, every day, 
Louise?” 

“Oh! I don’t know. He is a boy, and boys 

always ” she hesitated, feeling somewhat 

confused by Janet’s quiet look. 


96 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“Boys are very much like other people, my 
dear little girl. They have hearts and they often 
feel lonely 'and sad just as girls do, only they 
are not apt to speak of it. I am afraid you have 
not tried very hard to make Mac happy these 
last few days.” 

Louise blushed. She was silent for some 
time, and then said, with the frankness so char- 
acteristic of her, “I haven’t done a thing. I 
never once thought about anything but my 
own loneliness. Do you suppose that Mac has 
noticed and thinks I don’t care? ” 

“I am sure that Mac is troubled about some- 
thing and prefers to be alone at times, but he 
can hardly help seeing that you are quite un- 
like the Louise of two weeks ago ; and I do not 
doubt that he would enjoy shooting, boating 
or riding, just as much as he did then. What 
do you think? ” 

“I think that he would,” Louise replied, 
promptly. “At any rate, I ought to ask him, 
for he is my guest. I forgot that, too. Oh! 
Auntie, how selfish I have been.” 

“I am afraid you have, Louise. But it was 
quite natural. Many people much older than 
you are forget the pleasure and even the com- 
fort of others in grieving over their own sor- 
rows. We all have to learn that we make our 
own happiness by making others happy.” 


Louise and Mac. 


97 


‘‘I see, auntie,” said Louise, thoughtfully, 
“ I was so miserable over Mr. Keith and the 
rest being gone, and all our pleasant times 
ended, that I did not remember that Mac must 
be lonely, too. Why didn’t you tell me? ” 

Janet smiled. 

“You thought I would find it out pretty 
soon, didn’t you ? ” and she laughed, but she 
blushed, too. “ I’ll try not to be so thought- 
less again.” 

She ran away to find Mac, her loving heart 
much troubled over her neglect of him and 
anxious to make amends. 

She found him, for a wonder, lying in a 
hammock on the west porch. 

“ Oh ! Mac,” she cried, running up and stand- 
ing very near him as he swung to and fro, “I 
am so glad to find you here.” 

Mac looked a good deal surprised at the 
hearty greeting. Then he said, slowly and with 
peculiar emphasis, “ Haven’t you made a mis- 
take, Louise? It is not Mr. Keith, but only 
Mac Caldwell.” 

The quick blood mounted to her brow and 
her heart throbbed with mingled emotions. 
Mac’s thrust, unkind as it was, she felt to be 
not altogether undeserved, but it made it hard 
to say what she had intended to sincerely. 
She bit her lip to keep back the angry retort 
7 


98 


Over at Little Acorns. 


which trembled there, and stood silent, strug- 
gling to regain her pleasant, friendly feelings 
toward him. He, meantime, was calling himself 
hard names for having spoken to her so rudely. 

“ No, Mac, I am not mistaken,” she said, at 
length, “ and I am very sorry that I have treated 
you so shabbily since — since — they all went 
away. I forgot that you would be lonely, too, 
and I’m sorry.” 

“That’s all right, Louise,” he exclaimed, 
jumping from the hammock and sitting beside 
her on the broad stone step. “I’ve been such 
a bear, I don’t wonder you kept out of the way; 
and I hope you won’t mind my cross words. I 
didn’t really mean them.” 

“Oh! I didn’t, but just a minute,” said she, 
turning a bright face toward him. “How tired 
you look,” she added quickly, regarding him 
more closely. “Did you walk far to-day? ” 

“ Not very,” he answered, with a heavy sigh. 
Just then she remembred what Janet had said 
about his being troubled. She looked at him 
wistfully, longing to comfort him. 

“Do you feel sick?” she next asked. 

“No,” he answered briefly, and then, as if 
feeling that her kindness deserved a better re- 
turn, he continued more kindly, “don’t worry 
about me, Louise. I suppose everybody has 
their troubles sometimes, and I cannot appear 
to be happy when I am not so.” 


Louise and Mac. 


99 


She looked up at him with a world of sym- 
pathy in her brown eyes and said, softly, laying 
her hand on his, “I’m so sorry, Mac. I wish I 
could help you.” 

The gentle caress and the loving words 
touched the spring of his long pent-up emo- 
tions. With a deep sobbing breath, he bowed 
his head on hers, saying, brokenly, “ Oh, Louise, 
I want my mother so! No one loves me as 
she did.” 

“ I love you dearly, Mac, and so do all of us, 
and you know Mr. Keith says that Jesus loves 
us better than any one else does.’’ 

“Do you think he loves us when we are 
wicked, Louise?” 

“ Why, he must, Mac, for we can’t be better 
till he makes us so, can we? And, then, just 
think of all the things he gives us, our fathers 
and mothers, and homes and friends, and — 
and — everything. ” 

“Yes, I know he gives us all of these things; 
but think how many wicked people have them 
that never love him at all. And I don’t see 
how he can love everybody, do you, Louise?” 

“I never thought much about that,” said 
Louise, looking rather perplexed. “ I only 
know I wish I loved him more — and — you do 
love him ; don’t you, Mac ? ” 

“Yes, Louise, with my whole heart,” he an- 


100 


Over at Little Acoi^ns. 


swered instantly, amazed at the burden which 
rolled from his breast, as he made the simple 
avowal in response to her direct question. 

“I am so glad. And, Mac, you are not so 
wicked, I am sure. So you mustn’t feel bad 
any more. Some day you will see your dear 
mamma in heaven, and Auntie Bell says I shall 
see mine there, too.” 

“You dear little comforter. You have made 
me feel better already. I have been so mis- 
erable ever since that night when Mr. Keith 
talked to us after the boat-ride, because I 
wished to be a Christian but thought I was not 
fit. I was afraid he would say that a boy who 
could get so angry every little while couldn’t be 
a Christian. But I do love him, Louise, and I 
am so glad I have told you all about it. I 
would like to be a real splendid man like Mr, 
Keith.” 

“I wish he was here now,” said Louise, wist- 
fully. 

“ So do I. I think he is the best man I ever 
knew. He has done lots of good to those poor 
people up over the hill. They think he is just 
about perfect. And to think how awfully I 
treated him one day. I was up in the woods 
feeling as though I wished I was dead when he 
came by. He stopped and began talking kindly, 
but I had just been in a temper and I knew the 


Louise and Mac. 


101 


whole thing would all come out in two minutes, 
and I was so ashamed I couldn’t stand it ; so I 
grumbled out something about being let alone 
and he went on, but not before he had said a 
few words I shall never forget.” 

It was a great strain on Louise’s love for Mac 
that he should have treated Mr. Keith in such a 
way as this. She looked shocked and hurt, and 
it was some minutes before she asked, “Did 
you ever tell him that you were sorry? ” 

“No. He went away the next day. But I 
shall write to him now. I thought I ought to 
tell you how horrid I had been to him.” 

“Well, never mind now, Mac. He will be 
sure to forgive you, and I know you won’t do 
so again.” 

The letter to Mr. Keith was written and sent, 
to be followed by many others from both. In 
return they received a long, delightful account 
of his new home and his work, especially among 
the poor children of the mission. 

From this time on Mac and Louise were the 
best of friends and constant companions. He 
seemed to have dropped entirely his moodiness, 
and Louise expressed the highest praise in her 
power when she confided to Auntie Jean that 
he grew “more like Mr. Keith every day.” 


CHAPTEK XL 

SEWING. 


“I suppose people never feel so much like angels as 
when doing the little good they may.” 

— Nathaniel Hawthorne. 

“ T would do you good,” wrote Keith, in one 



I of his letters to Mac, ‘‘to see these poor 
children. We are trying to teach them that 
cleanliness is next to godliness, and I suspect 
that some of them, in their zeal, nearly rub the 
skin off. At all events, shining faces are now 
the rule, and not the exception, as hereto- 


fore. 


“But my people are not all of a class to need 
such radical instruction. Many have seen bet- 
ter days, and know how to make the best of 
their limited means. 

“One family in which I am much interested 
consists of an old gentleman and his wife. 
They are both over seventy years of age. All 
their children — six, I think, they told me — are 
dead, and there are no relatives to care for 
them in their old age. He has some light work 
in one of the great factories near by. and she 
attends to the little housekeeping. 

“Their sweet, kind old faces, furrowed and 


102 


Sewing. 


103 


wrinkled, but never sad, are always before me 
at chapel services, and their tiny house is full 
of sunshine. I love to go there whenever I am 
specially tired or discouraged, and receive help 
from their simple, trustful lives. 

“Another little home where I find a beauti- 
ful spirit is that of a widow with two children. 
I was first attracted towards her because she 
has brown eyes very much like Louise’s, and 
she reminds me of her in many other ways. I 
found that she has been here for a year or so, 
and works in the factory of which I have told 
you. Her husband died some years ago, and 
she is the sole support of her twelve-year-old 
twins, Mark and Marcia. 

“You would be captivated, as I was, by 
Mark’s manly bearing and his chivalrous devo- 
tion to his mother. He gets odd jobs some- 
times, and is always so glad and so proud 
when he can earn a trifle. Marcia is the house- 
keeper, and their tiny home is as neat as soap 
and water and busy fingers can make it. Mrs. 
Eliot works from early morning until dark, so 
she can do little, personally ” 

A few days after the receipt of this letter, as 
Louise was sitting with Janet and Mac in the 
garden, she surprised them with the question, 
“Auntie Jean, do you think I could learn to 
sew?” 


104 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“I know of no reason why you cannot do so, 
dear,” replied Janet. 

“Will you please teach me, then?” she 
asked, eagerly. “I should like so much to 
know how. And have you patterns of dresses 
and aprons and everything that little girls and 
boys wear ? ” 

“It will not be difficult to get them, Louise,” 
replied Janet, smihng. “Why are you so anxi- 
ous to sew, dear?” 

“Oh! it is not for myself. Auntie Jean. I 
thought it would be pleasant to make some for 
those children that Mr. Keith has written about. 
Their mammas are so busy, you know.” 

“Have you thought how much time it takes 
to make even one small garment, Louise, and 
how many stitches must be taken ? ” 

“I know that Ellen is always busy making 
my dresses and other things,” she answered, 
looking down at her daintily-fashioned frock, 
“but I am willing, auntie, to take all my time 
for it. I wish so much to do something for 
them.” 

“May I suggest a better plan, my dear little 
girl? Your fingers, willing as they may be, 
need a great deal of practice before they can 
make these things neatly enough to send away. 
Suppose you hire some one to do the sewing 
for you — some one who needs the work. If 


Sewing. 


105 


you use your own money for this, it will be 
just as truly your gift as if you took every 
Stitch yourself.” 

“Oh! that will be a lovely way. You always 
do lihink of the nicest plans,” cried Louise, 
clapping her hands. “Now, can we go to the 
village this afternoon and get the stuff and 
somebody to make the things ? ” 

“Yes, dear, we will go at once. Mac, do you 
know whether Katie Knox is at home now? 
She is the very one to do this work, and we 
will have her come here.” 

“And she is one of Mr. Keith’s quarry peo- 
ple, too,” said Louise; “that makes it all the 
better.” 

“I saw her yesterday when I went to see 
Jamie,” said Mac, “and, if you like. I’ll go 
over the hill now, and see if she can come.” 

“I wish you would. You can explain what 
we would like to have her do, and tell her to 
arrange to spend a week or so with us.” 

It did not take Mac long to reach the little 
home in the woods where Mr. Keith had been 
so frequent and so welcome a visitor. Jamie, 
a stalwart young fellow, who had been seri- 
ously injured at the quarry during the winter, 
was now confined to his bed, and Mac seldom 
let two days pass without seeing him, and talk- 
ing or reading some of the long hours away. 


106 


Over at Little Acorns. 


When he made known his errand to Katie, 
her pale face grew alight with pleasure. She 
knew, by delightful experience, what it meant 
to go to “Little Acorns” for “a week or so” 
with Miss Janet. These times were oases in 
her monotonous life, when she was surrounded 
by the dainty, beautiful things that her gentle 
nature craved, but from which she was shut 
out by the limitations of her home-life. But 
best of all was the sisterly sympathy she le- 
ceived from the loving-hearted mistress of the 
house. Katie loved these days with Janet. In 
them she became stronger for the battle which 
she had to fight with the outside world. 

She promised to come the next day, and grew 
interested at once when she learned what work 
she was to do. 

Busy days followed, in which many small 
garments were made, and laid away until the 
box should be filled, and during whose quiet 
hours many words of counsel and of confidence 
were exchanged between the two friends. 

It was a happy day for Louise when she was 
allowed to cut out and make with her own 
hands an apron for Marcia Eliot. It was slow 
work, but her heart was in it, and it would 
have been hard to have found a prouder girl 
than she was when the last dainty ruffle was 
hemmed and the last button sewed on. 


107 


Sewing. 

‘‘Oh! auntie, I do hope she will like it. Do 
you suppose it will fit her?” 

“ She’ll be sure to think it is lovely, dear ; 
and I have no doubt but that she can wear it 
nicely. You know Keith wrote that she was 
about your size, though not as old as you 
are.” 

“I wish I could send her my last winter’s 
suit. It will be just the right size, and I shall 
have another. I’ll go and ask Auntie Bell.” 

Miss Janet smiled, but shook her head as 
she thought of the handsome fur-trimmed dress 
and coat of dark-red plush. 

“ I fear that it would hardly be suitable for 
her. But, if Auntie Bell is willing, your navy- 
blue flannel and brown ulster are just what she 
needs.” 

“ Oh ! yes ; and do let me put in my beaver 
muff to keep her hands warm.” 

Before Janet could reply Louise had danced 
away to consult Auntie Bell, whose generosity 
was equal to the occasion. 

Just before Thanksgiving-day the famous 
box was packed with all sorts of things for 
Keith’s “people.” On the top lay the package 
for Marcia Eliot, which had been attended to 
by Louise herself. Not only the dress and the 
warm coat, but a quantity of serviceable under- 
clothing and a box of ribbons from Louise’s 


108 


Over at Little Acorns. 


own store, made up the parcel. In the pocket 
of the dress she slipped this note : 

“ Dear Marcia : Mr. Keith has written to us 
ah^out you, and what a nice little housekeeper 
you are. I am sorry your mamma has to work 
so hard, and cannot make you pretty dresses. 
I send you this one of mine and some other 
things, which I want you to wear this winter ; 
also, some of my ribbons. I like the light-blue 
one best, and have kept one just like it, so we 
can wear them alike. Won’t you write me a 
letter some time? 

“Your loving friend, Louise Standish. 

'‘^November 23.” 

To Keith she wrote : 

“ Dear Mr. Keith : We send the box to you 
to-day. Mac is nailing it up now. Please be 
very careful when you take out the things. I 
hope they will not be mussed. It makes me 
very happy to send this gift to your poor chil- 
dren. If papa is willing, I want to do some- 
thing more at Christmas time. 

“Your loving Louise.” 

Just before Mac nailed on the cover of the 
box, he slipped in, unperceived, an envelope. 


Sewing. 


109 


It contained a ten-dollar bill, and the follow- 
ing characteristic words written on a card : 

“ Dear Mr. Keith : I can’t make aprons, 
but I don’t need more than a dozen coats. 

“Mac.” 


CHAPTEK XIL 


LETTERS. 


^‘Letters have sympathies 
And tell-tale faces that reveal 
To senses finer than the eyes 
Their errand’s purport ere we break the seal.” 

— James Russell Lowell. 

Helen to Louise. 

OU Dear, Darling, Precious Louise: 



I Why in the world don’t you write to 
me? It is almost two weeks since I have 
heard a word, and I am dying for a letter. 
There are lots of nice girls here, but not one- 
half as sweet as you. I shall never be happy 
until you come. Mamma and Auntie Bell are 
coaxing Uncle Mark to send you after Christ- 
mas. I do hope he will. That will soon be 
here now. I’ve told Mademoiselle Hortense, 
the teacher of our section, all about you and 
she hopes you will come, too. It is just lovely 
here. At first I was rather lonely, because I 
was the only new girl. Madame takes only just 
such a number, you know, and there was but 
one vacancy. Now there are two, for the 
McAlister girls went to Europe with their 
father in November. 


110 


Letters. 


Ill 


“It doesn’t seem a bit like school. The 
whole house is furnished elegantly, and all 
the girls have to dress for dinner just as they 
do at home. Then on Thursdays (dancing 
days) we dress, too, and madame requires us 
to wear gloves and act as though it were a real 
party. Very often refreshments are served, 
and once a month the boys from General 

Y ’s military school are invited. They have 

the same dancing teacher that we do, and he 
likes to have us practice together. 

“Madame and General Y , or his ram- 

rod-dy lieutenant, seem to be everyw^here at 
once, so we can’t have much fun. Once, 
though, Howard St. John gave me a note 
while we were dancing. He is splendid; as 
handsome as he can be, and so rich. Last 
week he brought a tiny pair of scissors and 
managed to cut off a bit of one of my curls 
when no one was looking. You can’t think 
how nice it is to know that such an elegant 
boy has one of your curls in his pocket. 

“We have to speak French all the time, and 
two days in the week German. I hate that. 
Next year the girls say we cannot speak Eng- 
lish at all. 

“Bella Van Kirk asked me the other day 
if I was not Spanish. She said she should 
think so, I am so dark. I do hope I am, or a 


112 


Ove7‘ at Little Acorns. 


Creole. Howard said once that he doted on 
Creoles. 

“Oh! you must come here, Louise, darling. 
It is lovely, and so improving. Howard says 
he can always tell madame’s girls by their 
elegant manners and stylish dresses. How 
stupid it must be for you now with only Mac. 
I’m awfully sorry for you, you poor dear. But 
you will be here before long I know, and what 
lovely times we will have. 

“ Good-bye, with a million kisses, 

“Helen.” 

Louise to Helen. 

“Dear Helen : I have just read your letter 
where you say that you are sorry for me, be- 
cause I am here with only Mac. You needn’t 
be one bit, for I am as happy as I can be all 
day long. 

“Every morning we come over to ‘Little 
Acorns’ and study different things with Auntie 
Jean. We commenced French not long after 
Mr. Keith went away, and last week he sent us 
some pretty, easy stories to translate. We en- 
joy them ever so much. Then Mac looks after 
some of Mr. Keith’s people up in the woods, 
and very often he lets me go with him. 

“ Mr. Stewart, the new minister in the village, 
has service almost every week in that little 


Letters, 


113 


tumbled- down chapel which h^s been disused 
so long. You remember it, do you not ? It is 
not far from those chestnut trees. He has 
fixed it up, and the people love to come. 

“Sometimes I go with Auntie Jean when she 
takes tea with her old ladies, and once she in- 
vited them all here., There were five of them. 
I waited on the table, and you don’t know how 
nice it was to see them so cozy and happy. 
One funny thing happened. Grandma Knox, 
Jamie’s grandma, you know, couldn’t be satis- 
fied, because she had forgotten her red and 
green plaid shoulder shawl. She began talking 
about it as soon as she got here. So auntie 
sent me upstairs for her lovely white one and 
put it on Grandma Knox herself. But still the 
old lady fussed and fretted, until Grandma 
Brown, that little bit of an old lady, the one 
who gave us the pinks that day we drove to 
the mill, piped out in her quaking voice, 
‘What’ll you do when you git to heaven, 
Dorcas? You can’t take your shawl there, 
and you might as well begin to git used to it.’ 
Everybody laughed, and Grandma Knox didn’t 
fuss any more. 

“Just before Thanksgiving we were all busy 
making things to send to Mr. Keith for his 
mission children. Katie Knox came down and 
sewed, auntie cut out, and Mac ran errands 
8 


114 


Over at Little Acorns, 


and packed the 'box. I made an apron for 
Marcia Eliot, a girl of my size, and it was ever 
so pretty. I asked her to write to me, but she 
has not yet. I hope she will, for I think she 
must be a nice girl. She takes care of their 
house while her mamma is at work, and she is 
only twelve years old. I am going to ask papa 
if she can’t come here at Christmas for a little 
visit, and. I want you to come, of course, and 
the boys. We can have ever so good times. 
Ruth and Nellie come out often, and always 
ask how you are. I think Nellie is going to 
beat us all shooting. She hit the bull’s-eye 
thirteen times out of fifteen the other morning. 
Wasn’t that pretty good? 

“ I don’t know about coming to your school. 
Don’t you study any? You did not say much 
about it. But we can tell when papa gets home 
next week. He has been to New York for 
some time. Be sure to come here for the holi- 
days. 

“Yours lovingly, Louise.” 

Louise to Mr. Keith. 

“ Dear Mr. Keith : I came over to see Auntie 
Jean, but she has gone riding to the village, so 
I will write to you. 

“I am sitting at the table where I used to 
write my Latin translations last summer. Your 


Letters, 


115 


chair stands in the same place that it did then, 
and your books are on the shelf. Auntie and 
I like to have them there, for it seems as if you 
would come in presently. 

“ Mac and I have each read a chapter in the 
new books you were so kind to send us. We are 
going to exchange with each other when we 
have finished our own. Helen has to speak 
French all the time at her school. She likes it 
there very much, but Mac and I think it must 
be a funny kind of a school. We cannot help 
laughing at her letters. She wants me to come 
there after Christmas, but I do not think that 
I should like it. I’m going to ask papa when 
he comes if I can’t stay here with Mac. 

“Do you think if papa will let me ask her, 
Marcia’s mamma would let her come here for 
the holidays? I would like so much to have 
her, for I don’t suppose she has many good 
times, and there will be such a lot of us that 
she couldn’t help it. Please find out for me. 

“Your loving friend, Louise.” 

Mr. Keith to Janet. 

“Philadelphia, December 16. 

“Your most welcome budget came to me in 
the midst of a very busy morning, my dearest 
of Jeanies, and I have but this moment found 
time to enjoy its contents. 


116 


Over at Little Acorns, 


“You need and must not worry about my 
overwork. I am entirely well again and quite 
strong, I assure you. And I am so thankful to 
be among my people once more. Their love is 
very precious to me. 

“But I am writing to you this morning in 
regard to matters which closely concern the 
Standish family. I am in great doubt as to the 
wisest course to pursue, and have obtained per- 
mission to consult with you confidentially. 

“You can measure my surprise by your own 
when I tell you that Mrs. Eliot, of whom I 
have written you, is a daughter of Mark Stand- 
ish. She came to me yesterday with a sad 
tale of girlish wilfulness and after- suffering. 
It seems that when about sixteen years old she 
met and became very fond of a young fellow 
who was visiting in Standish village. He was 
showy and dashing, of little character, but 
gentlemanly manners, and she was completely 
fascinated by him. Her father soon discovered 
the acquaintance and forbade its continuance. 
The result of it all was that she ran away from 
her home one night and was secretly married 
to Will Eliot. When Mr. Standish found it 
out, he wrote to her saying that she had made 
her choice and must abide by it ; that she could 
never return to his home, nor from that day 
consider herself his daughter. Mrs. Standish 


Letters. 


117 


was completely crushed by the affair, and died 
at the birth of Louise soon after. 

“The young couple went far West at once, 
and for a time Marcia was happy. But very 
soon she discovered the true nature of her 
husband. They travelled from place to place 
as he went from bad to worse, and at last, when 
the children were three years old, he died from 
intemperance. She succeeded in getting work 
of one kind and another, and has had a hard 
pull of it. About six months ago she obtained 
employment here. She has heard nothing from 
and very little of her father since she left home ; 
but she tells me that since she has become a 
Christian she earnestly desires to see him again, 
and, if possible, receive his forgiveness. While 
she was thinking over the best way in which to 
approach him, Louise’s gift to little Marcia 
arrived. It seems to the mother as if the way 
had been directly opened through her child in 
a most remarkable manner, and yet she hesi- 
tates as to the next step, and comes to me for 
advice. What shall I say to her? How can 
this most delicate affair be happily arranged? 
I have thought of it much, but fear that I may 
bungle. You, with your clear, womanly per- 
ception, will see more surely what is best. 
Think it over and write, or, if more advisable, I 
will come on and we will talk together. 

“ Ever affectionately, Keith.” 


CHAPTEK XIIL 

A GENTLE COUNSELLOR. 

“And a little child shall lead them .” — Isaiah xl. 6. 

T was but a few days after the receipt of 



1 Keith’s letter that Auntie Bell, Mr. Standish 
and Louise came over to take tea at “Little 
Acorns.” Mac and his father were away for 
a day or two. 

Janet had pondered long and deeply upon 
the surprising news, but had been unable to 
come to any decision. Mr. Standish, kind and 
good friend as she had always found him, was 
hard and set in many ways. She could easily 
see that it was no slight thing for him to have 
disowned his only child and forbidden her name 
to be mentioned, especially when this child had 
in his estimation been one cause of her mother’s 
death. Could she hope for pardon now? 

Janet regarded him with eyes opened to a 
new phase of his character as he sat at her 
table. How would he receive a letter from Mrs. 
Eliot? a letter, penitent and loving, such as 
she would now write? Would his heart warm 
toward the darling of his early fatherhood, the 
first-born of whom he had been so fondly 
proud? Could her children atone to him for 


118 


A Gentle Counsellor, 


119 


her long years of absence? or would he be 
hardened by the reawakened remembrance of 
her disobedience ? 

She could not tell. She still thought, as she 
had written to Keith, that there must be no 
haste, no mistake, and that they had better 
wait a little. 

After tea, they all gathered about the open 
fire in the sitting-room. Janet and Auntie 
Bell were busy with fancy work ; Mr. Standish 
sat in a big easy chair, watching the flames; 
and Louise went restlessly about the room not 
seeming to find a spot to her liking. 

Presently she settled herself on her father’s 
knee. 

“Papa,” she said, after twisting his mous- 
tache until he looked like a pasha, “ papa, will 
you do something that will please me very 
much and make another little girl happy, 
too?” 

“ I think it would take a pretty tough old 
heart to refuse such a request as that, little 
girl,” he said, laughing and pinching her 
ear, “what is it you and Helen want this 
time?”. 

“Oh, it isn’t Helen. Of course, I want her 
to come here at Christmas ; and I want you to 
let me ask a little girl Mr. Keith knows in his 
mission. She has no papa, and her mamma has 


120 


Over at Little Acorns. 


to work very hard. She doesn’t have any good 
times, but takes care of the house, though she 
is not as old as I am. So, I want her to come 
here and have a nice time with all of us. Her 
name is Marcia Eliot and she has a twin- 
brother, Mark.” 

Janet listened with fear and trembling, for, 
when Louise began, she suspected what was 
coming. The Gordian knot of their perplexity 
was to be cut in the most natural and best of 
ways. But what would follow ? 

Auntie Bell, who knew nothing of the recent 
discoveries in regard to Mrs. Eliot, turned pale 
when Louise pronounced the name, Marcia 
Eliot, and looked at her brother in alarm. 

The hand which clasped Louise’s grew cold, 
and for an instant her father’s face was con- 
vulsed as though with pain. However often 
his elder daughter might be in his thoughts, 
his ears had not heard her name for thirteen 
long years. “Marcia Eliot” and she had a 
twin-brother, “Mark.” Could it be possible 
that there were two children in the world so 
named that were not of his own flesh and 
blood? Hardly. He still sat gazing into the, 
fire with eyes which saw nothing of that which 
was about him. And who shall tell what 
visions appeared to the memory of that father ? 
A long time he sat silent and still, vaguely con- 


A Gentle Counsellor. 


121 


scions that a soft little hand was toying with 
his hair, but forgetful of the brown eyes pa- 
tiently waiting for an answer to their owner’s 
petition. Other eyes were looking into his; 
other voices speaking to him ; other influences 
at work. And yet the fingers of the winsome 
maid upon his knee were upon the spring of 
all his actions. At last, he put her gently 
away from him, saying, “Another time, dear,” 
and left the room. It was not until Louise 
had run away that Auntie Bell spoke. 

“Oh, Janet, how did this happen? Not 
since her mother’s death have we spoken of 
Marcia. Mark forbade it to us all. How could 
Louise know ? ” 

“ She does not know, and I can but believe 
that her words were given her to speak. 
Marcia is a widow now, and a member of 
Keith’s mission. Through the things Louise 
sent, she learned of his acquaintance with her 
father, and she came to him for advice as to 
how she had better approach him. She is 
very desirous of seeking his pardon for the 
fault of her girlhood. Only a day or so ago 
he wrote to me about it, and, now, without our 
planning, the generous heart of our darling has 
opened the way.” 

“ It is wonderful, truly. I do not know what 
could have hired me to say what Louise did. 


122 


Over at Little Acorns. 


You have never seen Mark in one of his pas- 
sions, and I think no one has since that dread- 
ful time. Poor Marcia ! How she must have 
suffered. She was a lovely girl, with only the 
fault of wilfulness.” 

“ Do you think it at all likely that her father 
will receive her back again?” asked Janet. 

“No one can tell. If Louise wishes it, pro- 
bably he will. No one else has any influence 
over him.” 

The next morning as Louise was running 
down from her room, her papa called her into 
the library. He took her on his knee and 
pushing her soft, dark hair away from her face, 
looked at her long and earnestly. 

“ I did not answer your question yesterday, 
my dear little daughter. I will presently. 
First, I want to ask you something. What do 
you know about this — this little girl you want 
to have come here ? ” 

“ Nothing, papa, more than I told you, ex- 
cept that I sent her some of my things in the 
box and wrote her a little note. I feel sorry 
for her.” 

“ But, Louise, I — I — knew Ijer mother once, 
and she did a very wicked thing. She married 
a man whom her father had forbidden her to 
know; she ran away from her home and was 
the cause of — of — her mother’s death.” 


A Gentle Connsellor, 


123 


He was very pale now, and Louise could 
feel that his hands were trembling. 

“But, papa, she is sorry now, I am sure, 
and I think her papa would forgive her, if he 
knew about what a hard time she has and how 
much she needs friends. Don’t you think he 
ought to, papa ? ” 

Louise felt herself clasped closely, while hot 
tears fell upon her face and great sobs shook 
him from head to foot. 

“Oh, papa! What is the matter? Don’t cry 
so, please don’t, papa.” 

Her loving heart was distressed by his suffer- 
ing and she tried to comfort him by caresses 
and tender words. 

“ Listen, Louise,” he said, after a long time, 
“I am the father of whom I have just spoken. 
Marcia Eliot is your own dear sister, whom I 
disowned before you were born. She disobeyed 
me, and in the pride and anger of my heart I 
told her never to call me ‘ father ’ again nor to 
come back to my house.” 

“Oh, papa,” Louise cried, clinging to him, 
half-frightened. 

“Yes, Louise, I did just that dreadful thing. 
I steeled my heart against her, and all these 
years, until yesterday, I have not seen her nor 
heard her name. Do you wonder that T weep 
tears of shame and sorrow ? ” 


Over at Little Acorns, 


3^4 


“But it will be all right, now, papa,” said 
Louise, beginning to comprehend what she had 
at first scarcely understood, “for you will go 
and bring her home; and, oh,” she went on, 
her cheeks burning and eyes bright with joy, 
“how beautiful it will be to have a sister. Oh, 
papa, can it really and truly be true ? I can’t 
believe it.” 

“Yes, darling, it is true, without doubt. 
There can scarcely be two Marcia Eliots. But 
I am going to Philadelphia this afternoon, and 
we will soon know.” 


CHAPTER Xiy. 


SISTERS. 


“But were another childhood-world my share 
I would be born a little sister there. ” 

— George Eliot. 

OUISE remained with her papa until his 



1 J preparations for departure were completed 
and he was fairly off. Then she flew to “ Lit- 
tle Acorns” with the glad news. 

“ Oh, Auntie Jean,” she cried, rushing in in 
a state of breathless excitement, “ what do you 
think ? I have a dear truly sister, and papa 
thinks that she is Marcia’s mamma. , He has 
gone to see. Oh, I am so glad ! It seems as if 
I could not wait until he telegraphs to me. He 
promised to just as soon as he finds if it is the 
same Marcia.” 

“You needn’t wait, dear child,” said Janet, 
drawing the little form to her arms and kissing 
the flushed face. “ I know that Keith’s friend 
is your own dear sister, and I cannot tell you 
how glad I am that she is coming home.” 

The strain and excitement of the last few 
hours culminated now in a burst of tears. 
Janet did not try to check them. Presently 
Louise grew calmer, and smiles came instead 
of sobs. 


125 


126 


Over at Little Acorns. 


I cannot believe it, auntie,” she said for 
the hundredth time, sitting erect on Janet’s 
lap and looking at her with incredulous eyes. 

Why, it is just like a fairy tale, only a thou- 
sand times better. To think that my sister, 
whom I always thought died long ago, is 
really living, and coming home to stay forever. 
Oh, ” 

Words failed at last, and leaning her head 
on Janet’s shoulder she sat quite still, smiling 
happily. In a few minutes the door opened 
and Mac came in. In an instant Louise was 
off Janet’s lap and had her arms around his 
neck, with the most curious mixture of laugh- 
ing and crying and incomprehensible talking 
that he had ever been treated to. 

‘‘Oh! Mac, I’m so glad you’ve come. Just 
think ; I’ve a lovely sister and two children in 
the world, and they are coming home to-mor- 
row, and they are the ones we sent the things 
to ; and, oh ! isn’t it too beautiful for anything? ” 
Mac disengaged himself from her rapturous 
embrace and stood staring. 

“ Whew 1 ” he said, “ what in the world is 
the matter with you now, Louise? You’ve 
kissed me twice on the nose and once on the 
ear, and all I could hear was something about 
‘ two children are beautiful.’ What is up ? ” 
“Don’t tease, now, Mac,” said Janet, who 


Sisters. 


127 


couldn’t help laughing at his comical face. 
“Something really important and delightful 
has happened, and Louise is rather upset. 
Come, sit down here now, and she will tell 
you all about it. I am going over to see 
Auntie Bell.” 

Mac listened most attentively while the story 
was repeated by the thrice-happy Louise. His 
astonishment and gladness were enough even 
for her. 

“ She will be your sister, too, Mac,” she 
continued, “and you must love her just as 
much as I do.” 

“ I’m afraid that will be almost too much of 
a job, especially if you go at her as you did at 
me to-day,” he remarked, gravely, rubbing his 
nose. “But I haven’t heard anything about 
the youngsters yet.” 

“ Youngsters ! why, they are the ones we 
sent the things to, you know. My blue dress 
and ulster, and hat and some ribbons, and the 
apron I made.” 

“Oh! is that so? Marcia and Mark. See 
here, Louise, would you mind telling me which 
of those articles were for Mark ? ” 

Louise boxed his ears in payment for this 
speech, and challenged him for a race across 
the lawn. 

Just after breakfast the next morning there 


128 


Over at Little Acorns. 


came sL telegram for Louise. “Expect us at 
five o’clock this evening,” it read. 

It was a long day for Louise ; but Auntie 
Bell kept her busy helping to arrange the 
i-ooms which Marcia and the children were to 
occupy ; and she was obliged to make frequent 
excursions to “Little Acorns” to let Auntie 
Jean know how things were progressing. So 
the hours at last passed by, somehow. 

She did not go to the station to meet them, 
but stood on the steps of the veranda, a charm- 
ing little blue-robed figure, all alive with ex- 
pectation and delight. As the carriage drove 
up, she caught a glimpse of Marcia and Mark 
sitting on the front seat, and of her papa, too ; 
but all her gaze was centered upon the much- 
longed-for sister. 

Mr. Standish helped his daughter from the 
carriage, and, still holding her hand, turned 
to Louise without a word. Louise looked 
upward and met fully the regard of a pair of 
soft, dark eyes, and felt, rather than saw, the 
winning smile upon the thin, worn face. Then 
she heard, gently spoken, “My darling lit- 
tle sister,” and sprang forward into a close 
embrace. 

“I’m so glad you’ve come. I can’t tell you 
half,” she cried, turning to kiss her papa. 
“And is this Marcia and Mark, too? Let me 


Sisters. 


129 


take them upstairs, Auntie Bell. Come, now, 
this is home, and you must learn the way.” 

They all went up the stairs, laughing and 
chattering, while Marcia and her father stood 
together at the door. She was thinking of the 
last time she was there, stealing in secret from 
her girlhood’s home ; he was looking across to 
the spot where a tall, white shaft marked the 
final resting-place of her mother. 

Presently he put his arm about her, saying, 
brokenly, “Let it all be forgotten, daughter. 
Let us never speak of it again.” 

And together they went into the house. 

9 




CHAPTEK XY. 


GETTING ACQUAINTED. 

“I pray, sir, tell me, is it possible 
That love should of a sudden take such hold?” 

— William SJmkspere. 

HE next letter which Helen received from 



JL Louise outrivalled in interest the many 
fascinations of boarding-school life. That Lou- 
ise should have a grown-up sister, a niece, and 
a nephew could scarcely be comprehended, 
much less believed. 

Over and over again she read the descrip- 
tions Louise had written of these “mysterious 
personages,” as Helen styled them. 

“ . . . . Sister— I call her ‘sister’ to distin- 
guish her from little Marcia, and because I 
think it is a beautiful name — is tall and slender 
like Auntie Jean. She is thin and pale, but 
that is because she has had to work so hard. 
She has dark brown eyes and soft, pretty hair. 
But the loveliest thing about her is her smile 
and the way she looks at you — so gentle and 
sweet. I love her dearly, dearly, already, and 
I think I have the most precious sister in the 
whole world. 

“Mark is a tall boy for his age. He has 


130 


Getting Acquainted. 


131 


brown hair, very curly ; grey eyes ; lots of 
freckles, and a great, big dimple in his cheek. 
Oh! yes, and beautiful, white teeth, which he 
shows when he laughs. He is full of fun, but 
rather quiet, too. 

‘‘Marcia is about as much like Mark as a 
kitten is like a greyhound. She is short and 
roly-poly, with blue eyes and light hair, which 
hangs in two big plaits down her back. She is 
ever so jolly, and knows how to do a lot of things. 

“ It is only a week now to Christmas, and I 
am so anxious for you and the boys to come 
and get acquainted with them.” 

The week passed quickly, and one morning — 
the one before Christmas* day — found the seven 
young folks assembled in the sitting-room at 
Standish Hall. 

Alec and Mac seemed half a head taller than 
when they came there in September; Charlie 
had grown a great deal, but, to his infinite re- 
gret and mortification, it was not upwards ; and 
Helen had blossomed out into a fashionable 
young lady. Her hair was stylishly arranged 
on the top of her head, her dresses were a 
counterpart of her mother’s, and upon her slen- 
der wrist jingled a dozen silver bangles. 

She had viewed the new-comers with critical 
eyes, and decided that Marcia did not look at 
all like the heroine of so romantic a story. 


132 


Ovei' at Little Acorns. 


She did not venture, however, to express thi^ 
opinion to Louise. Bpt there was one thing 
which everybody seemed to have overlooked, 
most unaccountably, and which she determined 
to attend to herself without further delay. 
She did not have to wait long for an oppor- 
tunity. 

It happened on this particular morning that 
Mark was very busy finishing the carving of a 
bread-board as a Christmas-gift for Janet, to 
whom he had taken an immediate and strong 
liking. He was very skillful at this work, to 
the great admiration of Louise, who now stood 
watching him as he chipped off bits of the 
wood, here and there, and brought out the de- 
sign so prettily. 

After a little while he looked around for a 
certain tool. It lay on the table, just out of his 
reach. 

“Please hand it to me, Louise. Thank you.’" 

“I think,” said Helen, in a calm, superior 
way, “that it would be a good deal more re- 
spectful in you, Mark, to say ’Aunt Louise.’ ” 

An explosion of dynamite in the room could 
hardly have produced more of a commotion 
than these few words. Alec, Mac, and Charlie 
burst into uproarious laughter; Mark colored 
to his hair, and looked half-surprised, half-in- 
dignant ; Marcia ruffled up like an angry little 


Getting Acquainted. 133 

ten, while Louise glanced reproachfully at 
Helen. 

“‘Aunt Louise’!” mimicked Alec. “Well, 
that is a good one. And it would be ‘ more re- 
spectful’ in Mark! Ha! ha! ha! What ever 
put such a piece of nonsense Into your head, 
Helen?” 

“ It is no nonsense at all, but the correct 
thing,” replied Helen, in a very dignified way. 
“Louise is the sister of Mark’s mother — ” 

“And the green-grocer bought at the house 
of the brother of the chairmaker a pen for the 
niece of the bootmaker’s wife,” interjected 
Mac. 

“And,” continued Helen, not heeding the in- 
terruption, “ the dictionary says that the sister 
of one’s father or one’s mother is one’s aunt. 
So I think it would be the proper and polite 
thing for Mark and Marcia to call her ‘Aunt 
Louise.’ ” 

“ Hear ! hear ! ” cried Mac, flourishing his 
long arms in enthusiastic gestures. “ ‘ Listen, 
my children, and you shall hear’ the eloquence 
which gushes forth in limpid and sparkling 
streams from the fountain-head of knowledge ! 
All hail to Madame X.’s unrivalled institution 
of learning, which sends out into the poor, ig- 
norant world such walking compendiums of 
useful information! Helen, doesn’t it ache?” 


134 


Over at Little Acorns. 


he asked, with pretended anxiety, laying his 
hand on her head. 

But Helen went on reading, not deigning to 
answer a word, while every one else was con- 
vulsed at his nonsense. 

“Stopcock is turned,” he announced gravely. 
“Not the least drop more for thirsting mortals. 
Well, ‘Aunt Louise,’ ” he went on, looking mis- 
chievously at Louise, “ I hope you will excuse 
your poor, erring neffy. He didn’t go for to 
do nothin’ bad, I am sure.” 

“ Oh ! Mac, don’t,” said she, noticing how ill 
at ease Mark seemed. “ I suppose that I am 
aunt to Mark, but I never thought about it be- 
fore, and I’m sure I hope he will not call me 
so. You don’t want to, do you, Mark?” 

Mark’s face was a funny mixture of fun and 
vexation. At last the big dimple and the white 
teeth began to show, and he asked: “Won’t it 
be time enough when you get to be taller than 
I am?” 

“ I guess so,” said Louise, laughing. 

“ But you are taller than I am now,” said 
Marcia. “ Must I say ‘Aunt Louise ’ ? ” 

“Not unless you wish to be a goosie-poosie,” 
cried Mac, whirling her down the room. “Now 
put off your sober face, and forget all about 
Helen’s first lecture on good manners. I am 
going to take you out coasting, and Charlie 
may come, too, if he likes.” 


Getting Acquainted. 135 

Of course Charlie did “like” very much, and 
they went laughing away. Mark kept on with 
his carving, and Louise continued to watch 
him as he deftly shaped the border of leaves 
and buds. 

“ That is so pretty, Mark,” she said. “ How 
did you learn to do it?” 

“An old German wood-carver up in the 
mountains of Virginia, where we lived once, 
taught me. Wouldn’t you like to do some- 
thing?” 

“I!” she exclaimed, delighted. “Oh! could 
I? It would be lovely.” 

“Certainly you can. Get that bit of soft 
wood, and I’ll show you how to begin.” 

“Oh! no, not now, because you are in a 
hurry to get that done for to-morrow ; but after 
Christmas I’d love to learn. Do you think I 
could make a pen-rack for Mr. Keith?” 

“Yes, indeed, easy enough. I know a pretty 
pattern.” 

“It ought to be pretty for Mr. Keith. Don’t 
you think he is the best man in the world ? ” 
she asked, enthusiastically. 

“I don’t know,” Mark answered, with a little 
hesitation. “ I think my grandfather is as good 
a one as I know of.” 

“Oh! of course; I didn’t mean papa,” said 
Louise, taken a little aback by his reply. “ But 


136 


Over at Little Acorns. 


the best one among our friends. You would if 
you knew him well enough. He is coming 
ag— ” 

Just at this moment Marcia came rushing in. 

“Oh! Mark,” she cried, “Mac wants you 
right off, and says to bring Alec. He is in a 
big hurry.” 

“You tell him that I’m too busy. I don’t 
care for coasting now. I want to finish this.” 

Good-natured Marcia ran back with her mes- 
sage, and in less than a minute “long-legged” 
Mac burst in and, begging pardon all around, 
whispered a few words in Mark’s ear. The 
effect was magical. 

“Here, Marcia, put these things away, will 
you? That’s a dear,” and he was off like a 
whirlwind, nearly upsetting Helen on his way 
to the door. 

“How boys do sprawl around,” she said, 
loftily. “They seem to be all arms and legs.’' 

“ They couldn’t get along without them, 
though,” said Louise, laughing. “I am glad 
they’re all out of the way for a little while, for 
now we can make our candy.” 

This kind of occupation was especially pleas- 
ant to Helen^ and all three of the girls were 
soon busily engaged making caramels, sugar- 
dates, walnuts, and all sorts of sweets. 

Nothing more was seen of the boys until 


Getting Acquainted. 137 

supper time, when they appeared promptly, 
did their duty like men, and again vanished 
from sight. 

“ Where can they be? ” asked Helen, as seven 
and then eight o’clock struck, and they had 
not returned. 

“ Off coasting, I suppose,” said Louise, deep 
in a book. 

“I wish they had taken us with them,” said 
Helen, walking to the window and looking out. 
‘‘ It is a lovely night. Why can’t we go out 
alone?” 

Just then Mrs. Eliot came in. 

“Who is going to hang up a stocking to- 
night ? ” she inquired. 

“I, sister, for one,” cried Louise, springing 
up at once. 

“I, mamma, of course,” said Marcia. 

“And I, too. Cousin Marcia,” said Helen, 
with much animation. 

“I think, then, that this is the magic hour.” 

Stockings big and little were produced for 
each member of the family and hung in a dang- 
ling row by the fire-place. 

“I hope they won’t be quite so limp to- 
morrow,” said Louise, laughing at their de- 
jected appearance. 

“I know of one that will not,” whispered 
Helen, with a significant nod. 


138 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“Now, mamma, please tell us a Christmas 
story,” begged Marcia. 

This request was heartily seconded by both 
the other girls, and, having drawn a big, easy 
ehair in front of the fire and established Mrs. 
Eliot in its comfortable depths, they nestled 
themselves about her and listened with delight 
to the wonderful tale she told them. 

“That was a beautiful story,” said Louise, 
when it was finished and they had bidden each 
other good- night. 

“Mamma’s stories always are,” said Marcia. 
“You have not heard the nicest ones yet.” 


CHAPTEK XYL 


HACO. 


“ If I be I as I hope I be, 
I’ve a little dog at home 
And he’ll know me.” 


— Mother Goose. 



HRISTMAS morning dawned fair and 


lovely, in itself a beautiful gift to the 
children of men. During the night a light 
snow had fallen upon that which already lay 
on the ground, covering it with a mantle of 
purest white. Myriads of crystals glittered in 
the keen air, touched by the slanting beams of 
the sun. Xo sound broke the stillness of the 
hour, nor marred its exquisite harmony. 

Louise had awaked and dressed very early, 
and as she opened her window and saw the 
new day, fresh from the hand of its Maker, the 
words of the psalmist arose involuntarily to her 
lips, and she uttered aloud his prayer : “ Create 
in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right 
spirit within me.” She realized, as never be- 
fore, the exceeding beauty and purity of God’s 
handiwork as manifested in the scene she now 
looked upon, and she longed that her life might 
be kept as free from stain. 


139 


140 


Over at Little Acorns. 


There was a knock at the door and Helen’s 
bright face peeped in. 

“Good-morning and a ‘Merry Christmas’ to 
yon, Louise, dear,” she cried, giving her a 
hearty kiss. “ Come, let’s go find Marcia. She 
is sure to be up by this time.” 

“A ‘Merry Christmas ’ to you, too,” returned 
Louise. “You don’t know how much better 
you look this way,” with an approving glance 
at the long, dark curls, which were smoothly 
brushed and hanging in the old fashion, and at 
the simple dress of blue flannel. 

“ It is a good deal more comfortable,” laughed 
Helen. “Somehow my finery, as Alec calls it, 
always seems out of place here.” 

“I hope it always will,” said Louise. “You 
seem like my own Helen again now.” 

In spite of her earnest wish to be the first one 
up, Marcia was still fast asleep when the girls 
entered her room. 

“ Doesn’t she look sweet ? ” said Louise, “ just 
like a baby with her hands tucked under her 
chin. She is a dear little thing.” 

“How much younger is she than you are?’^ 
asked Helen, amused. 

“Not quite a year,” Louise replied, laughing, 
“but she always seems like a little girl to me, 
someway, while Mark seems like a big boy. 
Hark, there they come. Marcia, dear, it is 


Haco. 


141 


time to wake up,” and she gently pulled the 
long, yellow braid which hung over the pil- 
low. 

Slowly the blue eyes opened, and quickly 
their owner flew out of bed when she realized 
that she had overslept. 

“Never mind, dear,” said Helen, “we will 
help you dress. I’ll button your shoes, and 
you comb out her hair, Louise. You’ll be 
ready in a twinkling, now. I think the boys 
aren’t down yet. They stopped in Mac’s room.” 
Very speedily the little maid was arrayed, and 
the three girls had the satisfaction of racing 
downstairs just ahead of the boys. 

The lean, lank stockings of the evening be- 
fore were stuffed to their fullest capacity now, 
and looked apoplectic enough. Mysterious- 
looking bundles of every size and shape were 
to be seen in all parts of the room. 

At Mrs. Eliot’s suggestion, everybody had 
put their gifts for everybody else, wrapped up 
and labelled, in her room some time during the 
day. She had arranged them as she liked, 
while Santa Claus was Ailing the stockings, by 
the chimney. Just after the girls had retired, 
a large hamper full of packages had been sent 
over from “Little Acorns.” 

Now, when all the family had assembled and 
the delightful work of distribution was being 


142 Over at Little Acorns. 

attended to, a pleasant voice was heard at the 
door. 

“May we come in and have a bit of your 
Christmas ? ” 

It was Janet, and just behind her Louise was 
overjoyed to see Mr. Keith’s familiar figure and 
smiling face. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed, “this is the best of 
all,” springing to greet him, while the others 
crowded around with warm words of welcome. 

“This is a pleasant surprise, indeed,” said 
Mr. Standish, cordially. “When did you 
come? ” 

“Last night,” replied Keith, to Louise’s 
astonishment. 

“Ah,” she said, “now I know what made 
Mark fly off so, and where the boys were all 
the evening.” 

Alec and Mac exchanged rather skeptical 
looks, and Charlie said, “I came pretty near 
letting it out two or three times this morning. 
It was awful hard not to.” 

They all laughed at this frank avowal, and 
began again the opening of parcels. 

Louise settled herself near Mr. Keith with an 
expression of the greatest satisfaction on her 
face. But she did not remain quiet long, for 
she was constantly jumping up to show her 
gifts to her papa and Auntie Jean and Marcia, 


Haco. 


143 


and to see and admire those of every one else 
in return. 

Janet was much delighted with the bread- 
board, and brought the flush to Mark’s cheek 
by her praise of his excellent work. But of all, 
little Marcia was most happy. She sat on the 
floor surrounded by her pretty things, looking 
at one after the other with loving eyes, but not 
speaking a word. She seemed utterly uncon- 
scious of any one about her, and was enjoying 
to the full the remembrances which affectionate 
friends had showered upon her. Her grand- 
father had been noticing her for some time. 
He stood quite near, watching the play of emo- 
tion on her face, and thinking with keen regret 
of other Christmas-days when she had not been 
with him. Suddenly she looked up at him. 
The burden of gratitude and gladness was more 
than her loving little heart could bear. In 
another moment she was sobbing in his arms. 
Other eyes than his were dim. With a few 
words he comforted her, and she went back to 
her treasures, happy again. 

It would be useless to attempt to tell of the 
special ways in which the beautiful gift season 
brought dehght to each one of the merry com- 
pany. But mention must be made of one 
which particularly pleased Louise. 

She was examining for the hundredth time a 


144 


Over at Little Acorns. 


handsome writing-desk which her papa had 
given her, when she saw, standing beside her, 
a large dog. Keith’s hand was on his collar, 
and he said, “Louise, Haco desires to be 
presented to his mistress. He wishes her a 
Merry Christmas.” 

The noble creature gave her an affectionate 
look from his intelligent brown eyes and laid 
one of his paws on her lap, as if in confirma- 
tion of the words. 

“Is he for me, Mr. Keith?” she exclaimed. 
“Oh! thank you! Isn’t he a beauty? See, 
papa, how lovely he is.” 

“ He certainly is a fine fellow, my dear,” 
said Mr. Standish, regarding somewhat criti- 
cally the silky, black hair and white points of 
the dog. “ What do you call him? ” 

Louise looked at the silver collar which 
encircled his neck, and read engraved there, 
“I am Prince Haco. I serve my mistress, 
Louise Standish.” 

“Haco. That is a nice name. Come here, 
Haco.” 

The dog at once came bounding toward her. 

“You have been well trained, I see. Mr. 
Keith, how can I ever thank you enough for 
such a beautiful present?” 

“By making him love you and enjoying him, 
yourself. You will find him loyal and devoted 


Haco. 


145 


and able to learn a thing, or two, or three. I 
should not be surprised if even Miss Lucinda 
could learn a thing, or two, or three from him,” 
Keith said, with a mischievous glance. 

Louise blushed, but smiled, too, as she 
patted Haco’s head and said, “Such as obe- 
dience and faithfulness, I suppose. Well, 
doggie, we’ll love each other, whatever else we 
do, won’t we ? ” 

The breakfast-bell rang in a few minutes, 
and Mark came to Louise. 

“May I take him out? I know where his 
house is, and he is used to me. We had many 
fine times together in Philadelphia.” 

Louise hesitated. She had already deter- 
mined to ask Mac to become the special guar- 
dian of her pet. But Mark looked so anxious 
for the honor, that she decided, not without a 
little struggle, to let him have it. 

“Thank you, Mark,” she said, “you may 
look after him a little, please, until I learn 
how.” 

She was rewarded for her sacrifice by the 
heartiness with which he thanked her. 

“I think,” said Keith to her, as they walked 
to the breakfast-room, “that you have taken 
your first lesson beautifully.” 

Louise looked up in surprise. 

“ How can you always know exactly what I 
10 


146 


Over at Little Acorns. 


am thinking about?” she asked, laughing and 
frowning a bit, too. 

“Miss Lucinda has a tell-tale face,” he re- 
plied, gravely, “ and then, we have all learned 
that ‘Mac’ can do things just a little better 
than the rest of us.” 

Toward the close of the meal, Mr. Standish 
inquired how the day was to be spent. 

“Mark and I are going to try our new skates, 
and Marcia can come, too, if she wants to,’^ 
answered Charlie. Marcia’s sparkling eyes 
testified that, notwithstanding the exceeding 
informality, not to say indifference, of this in- 
vitation, she was all ready to accept it. 

“Alec and I,” said Mac, “are going up to 
the mission on the hill. The children are 
coming there to-night, and we want to put up 
some evergreens that we cut yesterday.” 

“ Helen and I are going over to make Auntie 
Jean a visit,” said Louise. 

“Now,” said Mr. Standish, “I propose that 
all these various pleasures be postponed until 
after our two-o’clock dinner, and I invite you, 
one and all, to take a ride with me.” 

This was greeted with acclamations of de- 
light and gladly accepted. Everybody bundled 
up warmly, for the day, though fair, was cold, 
and presently stowed themselves away in the 
great double sleighs which were driven to the 


Ilaco. 


147 




door. Plenty of robes and hot foot-stones 
kept fingers and toes warm, and all enjoyed 
flying over the snow behind the fleet horses. 

Louise hoped and planned a little to get 
beside Mr. Keith, but, in some unaccountable 
way, she found herself not even in the same 
sleigh. She discovered, presently, that Helen 
was cosily tucked in beside him, just ahead, 
and that they were having the best possible 
sort of a time. 

“ It is too bad,” she said to herself, while an 
ugly, jealous feeling rose up in her heart, 

when he is only going to be here such a little 
while. I want to be with him every minute. 
It doesn’t make so much difference to her. I 
wish I knew what they are talking about.” 

These and many other selfish, naughty 
thoughts were passing through her mind and 
throwing a hateful shadow over the face which 
was usually so sunny. She was rapidly get- 
ting to be vexed with Helen and out of sorts 
with the day, when Haco came bounding along, 
shaking the snow from his curly hair, and wag- 
ging his tail cheerfully as he caught sight of his 
new mistress. 

Instantly her thoughts flew back to what Mr. 
Keith had said to her in the morning. Many, 
indeed, were the lessons which she had yet to 
learn. Tears of humiliation rushed to her 


148 


Over at Little Acorns. 


eyes. She buried her face in her muff, and 
prayed for strength to resist the evil in her 
heart. Renew a right spirit within me,” was 
again her cry. 

After an hour or so, they came to Greylock 
Inn, a famous stopping-place, where they 
alighted for a slight refreshment and to get 
thoroughly warm for the long homeward ride. 
Just as they were starting, Helen came to 
Louise, saying, “Now, let us change places 
going back. I meant that you should ride with 
Mr. Keith coming over, but some way you got 
in with Auntie Jean and the others.” 

How glad Louise was that she could say, 
truthfully, “No, Helen, dear; you enjoy it just 
as much as I do, and I want you to go back 
the same way you came. Please, now,” she 
added, earnestly, laying her hand on Helen’s 
arm as she was about to remonstrate, “it will 
make me very happy if you will.” 

“You are a darling, Louise. Of course I 
shall enjoy it. Mr. Keith is so entertaining. 
He has been telling me such interesting things 
about Philadelphia ; ” and she danced away, 
looking so pleased that Louise was glad, too, 
in spite of a twinge at her heart, as she thought 
how quickly the hours of Keith’s short visit 
were flying. 


CHAPTEK XYIL 


A OJIJilSTMAS TREE. 

“ Here comes the little Christ-child, 

All innocence and joy, 

And bearing gifts in either hand 
For every girl and boy. 

“ He tells the tender story 
About the Holy Maid. 

And Jesus in the manger 
Before the oxen laid. 

‘ ‘ Like any little winter bird. 

He says this sweetest song. 

Till all the cherubs in the sky 
To hear his carols throng. 

“He is the children’s Christmas, 

They come without a call 
To gather round the gracious child 
Who bringeth joy to all.” 

— Rose Terry Cooke. 

W HEN Keith and Janet returned to 
“Little Acorns” they took Louise with 
them, and she had a long and lovely hour 
before it was time for him to go to the mission 
on the hillside. It was so delightful to listen 
again to one of his talks with Auntie Jean, to 
hear of the old friends he had met, and the new 
ones he had made since he left them and went 
to his work among the poor and lowly. 

149 


150 


Over at Little Acorns. 


At length Janet left the room. Soon Keith 
crossed to Louise, and, sitting down beside her, 
asked, “How is it with this little pilgrim? Is 
she still travelling on?” 

“Yes, Mr. Keith,” she replied at once, “but 
it seems to me that I don’t understand how to 
do right. I have so many naughty feelings in 
my heart, and so many hard things to conquer. 
I get so discouraged.” 

“ So do we all, my dear little friend. I think if 
we took mora care to subdue our selfish desires 
and our wrong impulses as soon as they arise 
it would not be so difficult to overcome them. 
Strong character is of slow growth. We cannot 
attain full maturity at a bound, nor get to the 
top of the mountain without much hard and 
often painful climbing. We do not know how 
many weak places there are in our armor until 
we test it.” 

The conversation was interrupted by Alec 
and Mac, who came in fresh and rosy from 
their run across the lawn. 

“Is it time to go, boys?” asked Keith, look- 
ing at his watch. “ I did not think it was so late.” 

“Please, Mac, won’t you take me? and I am 
sure the girls would like to go, too.” 

“I don’t believe Uncle Mark will be willing,” 
said Mac. “ It is a pretty cold walk up there 
after dark.” 


A Christmas Tree. 


151 


“I’ll run and ask him, and we’ll be right 
over,” she cried, getting on her coat and cap 
and mittens in short order. 

“Papa,” she exclaimed, rushing into the cosy 
library at her home a very few minutes later, 
“please, papa, can’t we girls go with the boys 
to the mission? They are going to have a 
Christmas-tree for the children, and we’d like 
to see it so much.” 

Mr. Standish looked at the red cheeks and 
pleading eyes and did not reply at once. 

“Come here, Louise,” he said at length. She 
came and sat upon his knee. 

“ Why are you so anxious to go up there to- 
night?” he asked, regarding her with a curious 
intentness. 

“Oh! because Mr. Keith and Mac are going, 
and then, you know, it is Christmas, and I want 
to see the poor children enjoy this pleasant 
time, and help them if I can.” 

“ How can you help? ” 

“Oh! .we shall sing and play games, and — 
and — why, I really don’t know what else. I 
haven’t thought about that.” 

“And so you, and Helen, and Marcia, and 
Mr. Keith, and Alec, and Mac, and Mark, and 
Charlie are to make up this famous party, are 
you?” 

“Yes, sir, and Auntie Jean. You know she 


152 


Over at Little Acorns. 


must look after her old ladies. They are all 
coming, too. If it wasn’t so cold I’d take sister, 
but she will stay here with you,” she said, with 
a loving glance at Marcia, who was lying on 
the lounge. She was not very strong, and they 
all took great care of her. 

‘‘You can go, Louise. And if you should 
happen to find the big sleigh at the front door, 
you might as well make use of it.” 

Half-a-dozen smothering kisses and a con- 
vulsive squeeze were his reward, and she ran 
off to find the girls. 

Mr. Standish turned to Marcia. 

“You do not need, daughter, any plainer 
proof of the wasted opportunities of my life. 
That dear child connects me with all the true 
spirit of this beautiful Christ- child time no 
more than she does the oak trees on the lawn. 
It never once entered her head that I might 
care to go to such a place as the mission to- 
night.” 

A look of deep sadness came over his face. 
Marcia arose and stood beside him. clasping 
her hands on his shoulder. 

“But, father dear, she will know to-night, 
and will rejoice as I do. And the future can 
more than make up for the past, if you wish it 
to be so.” 

Again they heard the music of sleigh-bells, 


A Christmas Tree. 


153 


reminding them that it was time to be off, and 
very soon a graceful cutter might have been 
seen flying along over the track cut by the big 
sleigh a short while before. 

When Keith and his young helpers reached 
the mission they found nearly all the children 
there, with their fathers, mothers, grandfathers, 
grandmothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, and 
friends, without number, apparently. 

Mac fairly stood still with astonishment. 

“Where in the world did they all come 
from ? ” he whispered to Keith. 

Keith laughed. 

“I don’t know, nor care, so long as they are 
here. You must ‘take account of stock’ as well 
as you can, and we’ll manage in some way to 
keep track of them.” 

“ I’ll do my best. Oh ! how I wish we had 
money enough to build a better place than this 
old tumbled-down shanty! It is such up-hill 
work now.” 

Keith smiled in such a signiflcant way that 
Mac’s curiosity was aroused. He began to say 
something, but Keith interrupted him. 

“Have patience just a little while, my boy, 
and you’ll hear a bit of news. Now we must 
get these people into some kind of order. It is 
time to begin our exercises.” 

After a short delay every one was seated, 


154 Over at Little Acorns, 

and the first thing on the programme was the 
singing, with a hearty good-will, of several fa- 
miliar hymns. Then the young minister from 
Standish village offered a prayer, and Keith 
read Luke’s account of the Saviour s birth. 
This was followed by more singing, and then a 
large curtain which hung across one end of the 
room was drawn back, revealing to the amazed 
and delighted children a tall, brilliantly-lighted 
Christmas-tree. It was covered with gifts hang- 
ing in all positions, and very soon the children 
espied fruit, nuts, and candy, too, growing on 
every part of this wonderful tree. Keith, as- 
sisted by the boys, attended to the distribution 
of the good things, and the next hour was one 
of pure delight. No one, apparently, was over- 
looked, and each one was happily suited with 
his or her portion. 

Louise had been, so far, a silent, but most 
interested, spectator. She sat nestled against 
Auntie Jean, who had smuggled herself in with 
the young folks, and watched the little ones 
with their toys and the older ones with their 
more useful, but none the less acceptable, re- 
membrances. 

Keith came near, and spoke to Janet in low 
tones, which Louise could not help overhearing. 

“He has just come in, and his face is a sight 
to see. It does one’s very heart good.” 


A Christmas Tree. 


155 


‘‘ It was a splendid thing for him to do. But 
how you must have worked!” 

“ When one has carte hlanche in a city like 
Philadelphia, a few hours will accomplish won- 
ders. Then, you know, Mrs. Eliot sent me lists 
of the things, and the boys worked like Trojans 
yesterday afternoon.” 

‘‘Marcia has really done it all. It is mar- 
vellous.” 

“You mean the change in him? Yes, it truly 
is. He will not be a half-and-half Christian, 
you may be sure.” 

Louise was wondering whom they could be 
speaking of, when her eyes fell upon her papa 
and Marcia standing on the other side of the 
room. In a moment she was at their side. 

“Oh 1 papa, I never thought of your coming, 
but I am so glad you did! And sister, too. 
Only, isn’t it too cold for you ? ” 

“ No, dear. I am well wrapped up.” 

“Isn’t it lovely to see ail these people so 
happy ? I just heard Mr. Keith telling Auntie 
Jean of some generous gentleman who gave the 
money for all the presents. I think that was a 
splendid way of being Santa Claus, don’t you ? ” 

“ Indeed, I do. And can you not guess who 
the gentleman is, Louise ? ” 

Something in her smile and in the expression 
of Mr. Standish’s face revealed the truth to the 
delighted girl. 


156 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“ Papa,” she cried softly, clasping his hand 
in both her own, “ was it you, truly ? ” 

“Yes, little daughter. What else could you 
expect of a man with two such girls as mine ? ” 
The words were lightly spoken, but they 
meant a great deal. 

“ Oh ! papa,” said Louise, looking up at him 
with loving eyes, “ I didn’t know that anybody 
could feel as happy as I do.” 

“ Louise, Louise,” cried Helen, “ we want 
you here. We are going to play ‘ Round Ro- 
bin,’ and you must help us.” 

The rest of the evening passed all too quickly, 
and everybody was so tired and so happy that 
the homeward ride was a silent one. 


CHAPTEK XYIII. 


A SLEIOH RIDE. 

“ Here friends and cousins dash up by dozens 
And sleighs at least a score, 

There John and Molly behind are jolly . . 

Nell rides with me before. 

“ All down the village street 
We range us in a row, 

Now jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle 
And over the crispy snow. ” 

— Edmund Clarence Stedman. 

K eith left for Philadelphia the next day. 

He was escorted to the station by all the 
children, including Haco, as Mark said. It 
seemed as if the beautiful fellow really deserved 
to be called one of them, if affection and intelli- 
gence are passports to the human family. 
There existed already the warmest attachment 
between Louise and himself. To her great 
delight, he followed her constantly, and ap- 
peared never so happy as when lying near her. 
He would lift his head and put it on her lap 
as if to say, “here I am, dear little mis- 
tress.” 

“When are you coming again, Mr. Keith?” 
asked Mac, at the station ; they were standing 
at a little distance from the others. Keith re- 
157 


158 


Over at Little Acorns. 


garded earnestly the frank, boyish face, so 
nearly now on a level with his own. 

“ I cannot tell, Mac. There may be work for 
me here, up the hill. Do not speak of it just 
yet, though. Are you ready to be first lieu- 
tenant?” 

“Indeed, I am,” responded Mac, with much 
heartiness. “I have been thinking of it ever 
since last night. Now the chapel can be built, 
and so many other things done. It was a big 
piece of news, sure enough.” 

A strong hand-clasp was the only reply pos- 
sible, for the whistle of the train was heard. 
The last good-byes were merrily exchanged, 
and very soon the faint, curling cloud of smoke 
left behind by the engine had disappeared. 

Louise was taken home by Mac in the cutter. 
For a long time they rode in silence. 

“A penny for your thoughts, Louise,” said 
Mac, at length. 

“I was wondering what you and Mr. Keith 
were talking about, just at the last minute. 
You looked so happy.” 

“We were speaking of the little mission and 
of how the way seemed open now for so many 
things that are needed there. Oh, Louise, 
wasn’t it splendid of Uncle Mark to be so gen- 
erous?” 

“Indeed, it was. I was never so proud and 


159 


A Sleigh Bide. 

so liappy in my life as I was last night when I 
knew that it was my own dear papa who had 
done it.” 

‘‘And this is only the beginning. He gave 
Mr. Keith a check for $5,000 and told him to 
come to him for more when that was gone.” 

“ How I wish that Mr. Keith could be here 
to attend to it all. Mr. Everett is nice, of 
course; but he isn’t Mr. Keith.” 

Mac was so afraid that his face might betray 
the glad secret his heart was exulting over, that 
he turned it away under pretence of arranging 
the robes. Consequently, he did not see a box 
which had been dropped directly in the track 
of the sleigh. Another moment, and they were 
both sprawling in a snow-bank. Mac did not 
let go the reins, and the horse, gentle creature, 
stopped, looking around in amazement at the 
proceedings. 

They scrambled up and tried to get the cutter 
righted and to start on their way before the 
large sleigh should overtake them. But this 
they were not able to do. 

“Hullo, there,” cried Alec, “what sort of 
driving do you call that ? ” 

“There’s some snow on your back, Louise,” 
shouted Charlie. 

“Hold on there, till I can give you a lift,” 
called Mark. In a twinkling he was by Mac’s 


160 


Over at Little Acorns. 


side, helping to pull the cutter into position. 
The girls jumped out to brush Louise off, and 
Haco bounded about full of excitement and re- 
sponsibility. In a few minutes they were ready 
to start again. 

‘‘Here, Louise, jump in with us,” said Alec. 
“We have lots of room, and can’t trust you 
with Mac. Not for the rest of this ride, any 
way,” he added, seeing the hot color mount to 
Mac’s forehead. It was not only hot, but 
angry. Mac’s temper was as quick and fiery 
as ever, and it was all aroused in a flash by 
the insinuation that he had been careless of 
Louise. He resented indignantly Alec’s inter- 
ference, which he thought to be entirely un- 
called for. 

Alec was not as tall as Mac, but he was 
several months older, and often attempted to 
assume authority over the junior lad. Usually, 
it only amused Mac, who would have some 
good-natured joke all ready, but there was no 
fun in the look he now gave his cousin. 

Louise glanced from one to the other. 

“No, Alec,” she said. “I will go with Mac, 
of course.” 

“But, Louise, I am quite sure that Uncle 
Mark would never be willing after he has upset 
you once. Just think what a dreadful thing 
might have happened. I am the oldest, and 


A Sleigh Bide. 


161 


Uncle Mark will hold me responsible. Come, 
get in with us, now, like a good girl.” 

“Oh, pshaw, Alec! Don’t make a fuss over 
nothing. Nobody could possibly be hurt in 
this soft snow.” 

She turned toward the cutter. But Alec’s 
will was now aroused. He was determined to 
compel her to yield to him. He put his hand 
on her arm and was about to speak. Before 
he could utter a word, Mac sprang forward, 
crying, hotly, “Hands off there, Alec Norton. 
Uet Louise alone. She can do as she pleases.” 

“Not while I am here to keep her out of 
your careless hands,” retorted Alec. 

There were two angry boys now. 

“Take your hand off Louise, I say,” cried 
Mac, furious. “She shall ride with whom she 
likes.” 

Alec did not stir. Louise felt her cheeks 
growing hot. All her sympathies were with 
Mac. She loved him better than she did Alec. 
Besides that, Alec’s detaining hand aroused 
her own independent spirit. She did not at all 
fancy being dictated to in this fashion. A 
thousand thoughts darted through her mind 
during the minute of dead silence which fol- 
lowed Mac’s last words. Anger was fast getting 
uppermost, when Haco came rubbing his nose 
against her hand and seeming to ask what it 
11 


162 


Over at Little Acorns. 


was all about. Instantly she thought again of 
Keith’s words that morning. With strong 
effort she choked back what she was going to 
say and looked up at Mac. He was pale now. 
Almost immediately he stepped toward Alec, 
extending his hand. 

“ I beg your pardon, Alec, for speaking so to 
you. I was careless of Louise, and you are 
quite right in thinking that Uncle Mark would 
rather you should take her home.” 

It was now Alec’s turn to blush, but not with 
anger. He grasped Mac’s hand in both his 
own, saying, heartily, “I am the one to beg 
your pardon, old fellow. I’m sorry for every 
silly word I said. We all know that you are 
the trusty one of the crowd. I beg your pardon, 
too, Louise.” 

“Oh! that is all right,” said Louise, joyously, 
“now let us forget all about it. Come, Mac.” 

He began to speak, but she stopped him. 

“No ; I am not going with them. So if you 
won’t take me, I shall have to walk.” 

A faint little smile crossed Mac’s face at her 
pretty air of determination, but he was sober 
enough as they started once more on their 
homeward ride. The big sleigh passed them 
very soon, and it seemed as if they were the 
only living creatures in the beautiful snow- 
covered country. 


A Sleigh Ride. 


163 


‘‘I wish I was like Haco,” Mac broke out 
after a long silence. “ Then I’d never get into 
such tempers with my horrid tongue. If I 
couldn’t talk, maybe I could be a half-decent 
fellow.” 

“ Oh ! hush, Mac ; don’t say such a dreadful 
thing. Only think how terrible it would be if 
you were dumb.” 

“At any rate I shouldn’t be bringing disgrace 
upon my Master’s name, at the very times, too, 
when I think I am serving him the best.” 

He said this so bitterly that Louise was 
almost frightened. The tears sprang to her 
eyes. It hurt her to hear Mac speak so of 
himself. 

“ Please don’t,” she began, but she could not 
go on. Mac glanced down at her quivering 
lips. 

“There, dear,” he said, gently, “I didn’t 
mean to make you feel so. I won’t say such 
things any more. But you don’t know how 
Alec’s words cut me. There was a good reason 
why I did not see that box, but I couldn’t tell 
him what it was.” 

“I thought there must be something more 
than just our upset that made you feel so.” 

“Did you?” asked Mac, surprised. “Why?” 

“Oh! I don’t know. I just did. And I guess 
that it is what you and Mr. Keith were talking 


164 


Over at Little Acorns. 


about at the station,” she replied, with a keen 
glance into his face. 

‘‘I believe that you are a regular witch, 
Louise ; and I beheve, too, that you could keep 
a secret. But I know that I can.” 

She could not help looking a good deal dis- 
appointed. 

“ Shan’t I ever know ? ” 

“Yes, indeed, and before very long, too, I 
am sure.” 

“I hope so. Now, Mac, I want to ask you 
something. Don’t you suppose that even if 
you were like Haco that you might still get 
angry?” 

Mac blushed. 

“Yes,” he said, sadly, “I know that I should. 
It seems to me that I can never get control of 
this temper of mine.” 

“I don’t blame you so much this time. I 
was angry, too, and I should have said some- 
thing just as bad as you did if Haco had not 
reminded me of what Mr. Keith said.” 

“I thought, too, of the little verse mamma 
taught me when I saw how angry Alec was, 
but my ‘soft answer’ came too late to prevent 
the hard words.” 

“Never mind. We can keep on trying, Mac. 
That is one comfort ; don’t you think so ? ” 

“Yes, indeed. Oh! Louise, how do you 


165 


A Sleigh Hide. 

always know just the right thing to say when I 
am wrong and unhappy. You bring the sun- 
shine back every time.” 

“ Because I am sorry for you, I guess. Mac, 
Marcia is the very best one to go to when you 
feel bad. I used to think that Auntie Jean 
was. She is lovely, but there is no one so dear 
and sweet and altogether such a darling as my 
own sister.” 

“She is nice, I think, too. I don’t wonder 
you love her. I wish sometimes that I could 
always live here ; but I suppose that I must go 
to school again after the holidays. This trou- 
ble with my eyes has put me so far behind in 
my studies that I don’t know if I can make 
them up so as to enter college with my class. 
I feel ever so disappointed about it.” 

“I know you do. But it will all turn out 
right, I am sure. Aren’t your eyes well now?” 

“I think so. Papa asked me the other day 
how I would like to stay here and go to the 
Standish High School.” 

“ Oh ! that would be lovely. And maybe the 
rest of us will go, too. Wouldn’t that be great 
fun ? ” 

“I think we could manage to get some fun 
out of it,” said Mac, with a droll look. 


CHAPTEK XIX. 


AN INVITATION. 

“She doeth little kindnesses, 

Which most leave undone or despise ; 

For naught that sets one’s heart at ease 
And giveth happiness or peace 
Is low-esteemed in her eyes.” 

— James Russell Lowed. 

A nother holiday week passed quickly 
by; then the little party was scattered. 
Alec and Charlie returned to school and Helen 

to Madame X ’s sheltering wing. She was 

very anxious that Louise should accompany 
her; but the friends of the latter thought it 
much better that she should remain at home 
and attend the excellent school in Standish 
village, with Mark and Marcia. Louise was 
well content to do this, especially as Uncle Ben 
had decided to send Mac to the High School. 

It was rather less than a mile to the village, 
and the four young folks looked forward with 
a great deal of pleasure to the walks and rides 
they should have to and fro. 

School did not begin for nearly two weeks, 
and these days were to be spent by Louise in 
a most unexpected and delightful manner. 

166 


An Invitation. 


167 


One evening when Marcia went in to tuck 
her up for the night, she found her curled up 
in a little white ball on the thick rug before the 
fire, toasting her toes. 

‘‘What! not in bed yet, girlie mine? What- 
ever will become of your rosy cheeks ? ” 

“ Oh I sister, it isn’t late, I know. Come, sit 
down.” 

She jumped up and drew Marcia to a big, 
easy chair which stood near. Then, wrapping 
herself in a shawl, she snuggled herself down 
in her sister’s arm, with a long-drawn breath 
of perfect content. 

“What next?” asked Marcia, smiling and 
patting the smooth cheek so near her own. 

“Nothing — yet. It is enough just to sit here 
and know that you are my precious sister and 
that you are going to stay here always.” 

“ But I am not, Louise. I am going back 
to Philadelphia in a day or two,” Marcia re- 
phed, gravely, though with a twinkle in her 
eyes that Louise could not see. 

“ Sister,” she cried, aghast, sitting erect and 
looking very much frightened, until she spied 
Marcia’s tell-tale dimple. “You are coming 
back again, of course. How could you ever 
think of such a thing as living anywhere but 
here ? ” 

She nestled back into her former position. 


168 


Over at Little Acorns. 


Soon Marcia said, “There are a good many 
things for me to attend to in Philadelphia. 
You know we came away very suddenly. And 
you could help me a great deal, if you Were there 
with me, little sister. How would you like that ? ” 

Louise was erect again, this time with a radi- 
ant face. Words fairly failed her, but the 
ecstatic hug which Marcia received was elo- 
quent. 

“And will Mark and Marcia go, too ? ” 

“No. Papa will go with us and they will 
stay with Auntie Bell. We shall be gone 
several days, and it is much better that they 
should be here. Now, dear, you must go to 
bed and to sleep as fast as you can.” 

“I’ll try,” said Louise, as Marcia gave her 
a last good-night kiss, “ but you know when 
you are so happy it seems as if your eyes 
would not stay shut.” 

The next morning she went over to tell the 
good news to Auntie Jean. She found that 
lady busily sewing, and, establishing herself 
comfortably in one end of the capacious sofa, 
she poured forth her glad tale to an interested 
listener. 

“That will be delightful for you, Louise,” 
said Janet, “and, unless I am much mistaken, 
there is somebody in Philadelphia who will be 
delighted, too.” 


An Invitation. 


169 


“Yes,” said the little girl. “It will be so 
pleasant to see his home and the mission and 
all those children. How I wish that Mac was 
going, too.” 

Janet laughed. 

“And wouldn’t you like to have me go, and 
Mark, and Marcia, and Helen, and everybody 
else that you care for?” 

“N — no, not everybody; only you and Mac 
this time. You don’t know how hard he tries 
to be a real Christian, Auntie Jean. I wish 
you could have seen how he behaved to Alec 
the other day. At first he was very angry, and 
I didn’t blame him. Alec was so provoking. 
I was angry, too. But it all came out right, and 
Alec was ashamed of himself. Mac couldn’t 
have done as he did, when he first came 
here.” 

“ I have noticed how much control he is get- 
ting over his hasty temper. He is a dear boy, 
and Keith thinks a smart one.” 

“Did you know that they had a secret?” 
asked Louise, with apparent carelessness, sud- 
denly thinking that this might be a good chance 
to find it out. 

Janet did not reply at once. Louise watched 
her hand flying down the long seam, feeling 
more and more uncomfortable, while her cheeks 
grew hotter and hotter. 


170 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“If I do, do you think it would be fair to 
tell you so ? ” asked Janet, quietly. 

“ Of course not,” replied Louise, so promptly 
and decidedly that Janet smiled. “ And I know 
that it was horrid mean in me to try and pry it 
out ; but, oh ! Auntie Jean, I do so want to 
know what it is.” 

Janet laughed outright. 

“ It is lucky for the secret that neither Keith 
nor Mac heard you say that, you funny child. 
They couldn’t have kept it another minute. But 
I’ll comfort you a little by telling you ” 

“No, no, please not,” cried Louise, putting 
her hands over her ears, “ I can’t look them in 
the face if you speak one word.” 

“ Never fear. I was only going to say that 
you will probably know all about it before you 
come home.” 

“Keally? That is not long to wait. Now, 
please tell me what I shall bring you when I 
come home. Something nice, that you have 
been wishing for this long time.” 

“ I think that a baby would be about as nice 
a present as one could have, don’t you ? ” 

Louise stared for a second. Then, with a 
funny little smile at the corners of her mouth, 
she took up a pencil and a scrap of paper. 

“ Girl or boy ? ” she inquired, gravely. 

“ Girl preferred, boy not refused,” answered 
Janet, equally serious. 


An Invitation. 


171 


‘‘Age ? ” 

“Not less than six months, nor more than 
one year.” 

“Color of hair?” 

“Golden.” 

“Eyes?” 

“Blue.” 

“Any other requirements ? ” 

“At least two teeth and a dimple.” 

Just at this instant Mac came in. 

‘ ‘ Good morning, Auntie J ean. Have you seen 
Louise ? Oh ! there she is. Is it true that you 
are going to Philadelphia with Cousin Marcia ? 
Mark said so just now, but I fancied it was one 
of his yarns. Honor bright, are you going?” 

“ Honor bright, I am. Isn’t it lovely to think 
of, Mac? I only wish that you and Auntie 
Jean were going, too. She has just been 
choosing what I shall bring her when I come 
home. What will you have ? ” 

“What did she say she wanted?” 

“Oh! that is a secret,” said Louise, laugh- 
ing. “You need not think that you and Mr. 
Keith have them all.” 

“ But you will know that very soon now.” 

“And so will you know this, Mr. Curiosity. 
Come, what will you have, to pay for staying 
at home?” 

“Well — let me see — you will want to give 


172 


Over at Little Acorns, 


me something pretty fine, of course. I think 
I should like a walrus.” 

“All right,” and Louise made an addition to 
her notes. 

It was now Mac’s turn to stare. He had ex- 
pected a great outcry and wonderment at his 
selection of a gift. He looked from Janet to 
Louise, quite mystified. He could not have 
told from the manner of the latter but that she 
was in the habit of frequently presenting her 
friends with aquatic mammals, and the former 
still sewed on composedly. 

“ See ! ” exclaimed Louise, “ here comes Haco 
with a note tied to his collar.” , 

They soon heard him bounding along the 
hall, and presently his shining, black head 
pushed aside the portiere^ and he looked ea- 
gerly all around the room. When he espied 
Louise, he ran to her side. 

“You dear, good fellow, to be my postman,” 
she said, patting and praising him. “Thank 
you ever so much.”. 

The note was from Marcia. 

“I am trying an experiment with your dog- 
gie, Louise, dear,” it read. “ If he obeys orders, 
you will receive this very soon. Papa thinks 
that we would better start this afternoon. So 
we shall have dinner at three o’clock. Please 
tell Mac, if you see him anywhere about. 

“ Lovingly, Marcia.” 


A n Invitation. 


173 


“I must go home now, then, to help sister 
get our things ready. I’ll run over and tell 
you good-bye the very last thing. Auntie Jean,” 
said Louise, jumping up. 

Just then Marcia’s yellow braids were seen 
flying by the window. She came in breathless 
from her quick running. 

“I’m ever so glad to see you. Auntie Jean,” 
she said, giving Janet a kiss. “Mamma wanted 
me to come and see if Haco did his errand. 
Wasn’t it clever of him ? ” 

Haco seemed to understand and to thoroughly 
appreciate the compliment, judging by the en- 
ergetic wags of his plumy, white-tipped tail. 

“Of course it was,” said Louise. “He is the 
wisest and dearest dog in the whole world, and 
is going to obey Master Mac beautifully while 
his mistress is away.” 

“ ‘ Master Mac ’ and he will run a race with 
you girls across the lawn this very minute,” 
cried Mac, springing up and seizing his cap. 
“Good-bye, Auntie Jean.” 

“Just listen!” exclaimed Marcia. “A great 
chance we’d stand against his long legs and 
Haco’s four. But I’ll race with you, Louise. 
Good-bye, auntie.” 

“Agreed. From auntie’s steps to our big 
elm.” 

It was not until they were fairly started that 


174 Over at Little Acorns. 

Loiiise realized that she was actually on the 
way to see Mr. Keith, in company with her 
papa and her dearly-loved sister. But she had 
only to look at her ticket to reassure herself 
that Philadelphia was her destination, and but 
to raise her eyes to meet loving glances from 
the two people in the world most dear to her 
heart. 

Every incident of their late afternoon jour- 
ney; their arrival in New York; their stay at 
the hotel there, and their drive to the park the 
next morning; their flying ride to Philadel- 
phia — each and all were simply delightful. 
Keith met them at the station, and it was a 
very happy little girl that walked by his side 
down the long platform. 


CHAPTEE XX. 


THE SECRET. 

“God, in his earthly temples, lays 
Foundation for his heavenly praise.” 

— Isaac Watts. 

L ouise awoke very early the next morn- 
ing Marcia, whose bed was quite near 
her own, was still sleeping soundly. It was a 
good while before sunrise, but Louise could 
see that the sky was turning pink, and that the 
day would be fine. She was very glad of this, 
for it had been arranged thd,t they should go, 
first of all, out to the little home where Marcia 
and her children had lived, and decide what 
should be done with their possessions. 

Then Keith had invited them for a drive in 
the afternoon, and in the evening they were to 
attend service at his mission. This would seem 
to be pleasure enough for one day; but as 
Louise was thinking it all over, there came 
another idea into her head, a most delightful 
plan. She longed to have Marcia wake up 
that she might consult with her. 

Sitting up in bed, she looked over at her 
sister. The long, dark lashes lay motionless 
on her cheeks, and her regular breathing 
175 


176 Over at Little Acorns, 

showed that she was still far away in the land 
of dreams. With a sigh of impatience, Louise 
lay down again, and her thoughts were so busy 
that she did not notice when Marcia opened 
her eyes. 

“Good-morning, httle sister. You look as 
bright as a new dollar.” 

“Oh! Marcia, I’m so glad you’re awake at 
last. I’ve been wishing for the longest time to 
tell you what a lovely thing I have thought of.” 

“ I’m all ears,” said Marcia, with a funny look. 

“Now don’t make fun, please, for I’m ever so 
much in earnest, and I want you to be willing 
that we should do it. Are all your things at 
your house just as you left them?” 

“That remains to be seen. I hope so. But 
my ‘ house ’ was only three rooms in a house, 
dear.” 

“Oh! well, I meant the place where you 
lived. Now if we find everything all safe, can’t 
we have dinner there to-day, just as you and 
Mark and Marcia used to? You cook the 
things and let me help you, and have papa and 
Mr. Keith come. Oh! Marcia, I want it so 
much. Please say yes.” 

Marcia did not reply at once. She wondered, 
as she looked at the eager face before her, why 
Louise had asked her this. She put her thought 
into words. 


The Secret. 


177 


“Why do you wish this so much, Louise?” 

“Because,” replied Louise, “I have often 
been sorry that I have missed all these years 
that Mark and Marcia have known you. I 
thought that if I could see exactly how your 
home looked, and know how you lived, it would 
seem more as if I had always had a sister.” 

Marcia’s eyes were full of tears, whose bitter- 
ness Louise little suspected. She kept them 
from falling by a resolute effort, and waited until 
her voice was steady before she said, “Yes, 
dear, we will have just such a dinner as Marcia 
and I have often prepared. We will manage 
that papa and Mr. Keith shall know nothing of 
it until they come out about two o’clock.” 

“Thank you, sister dear. How good you 
are to think of surprising them. I’ll get a 
pencil and we will make out a list of what we 
will have for dinner.” 

She jumped out of bed and ran to the 
table. 

“Open the register, pull down the window, 
and put your shawl around your shoulders,” 
said Marcia. “I suppose there is no use in 
suggesting that we wait for this until after 
breakfast.” 

“Two whole hours!” cried Louise, in bed 
again, wrapped up like a mummy and leaning 
against a pile of pillows. “No, indeed. Now 
13 


178 


Over at Little Acorns. 


what comes first ? Oh ! soup, of course. What 
kind? ” 

“We never had soup if we had meat.” 

“Didn’t you?” asked Louise, in surprise. 
“Then we will not have any. What kind of 
meat? ” 

“ Once a week we had a small roast, which 
made, usually, several meals. There will not 
be time for that to-day, I -think. Suppose we 
have some slices of ham nicely broiled. That 
was always Mark’s favorite dinner.” 

“All right; ‘ham broiled.’ Any other meat?” 

“No.” 

“Potatoes? Irish or sweet; mashed or 
boiled?” 

“Irish, mashed.” 

“Any other vegetables?” 

, “We almost always had one other.” 

“ Let us have turnips, then. Let me see now, 
‘ham broiled; Irish potatoes mashed; turnips.’ 
What else?” 

“Bread and — sometimes — butter ; boiled rice, 
griddle cakes, or gingerbread for dessert.” 

“We’ll have bread and butter and rice. Any 
fruit?” 

“On extra occasions we had apples or 
oranges.” 

“ This is very extra, so we’ll have some lovely 
Ploridas.” 


The Secret. 


179 


Louise could not help thinking, as she looked 
at the simple little list, how different such a. 
dinner would be from those at Standish Hall. 

Breakfast was not quite finished when Keith 
came in to say good-morning. He asked if 
Mr. Standish had slept well. 

‘‘Very well, thank you, except that I was 
awakened at an unearthly hour this morning by 
a magpie in the next room. Such a chattering 
you never heard.” 

Louise glanced at Marcia in dismay. 

“ Oh ! papa,” she asked, “ did you hear what 
I said?” 

“ It can’t be possible that it was you,” he ex- 
claimed, with pretended surprise. 

“ But did you hear, papa? ” 

“Not a word, dear, not a word. I do not 
think that any one’s ears could possibly keep 
up with that remarkable little tongue of yours.” 

“ Marcia’s can, and did. Didn’t they, sister ? ” 

“They really did. And now, papa, Louise 
and I have some private matters to attend to 
this forenoon. We will meet you and Mr. Keith 
at Laurel street at two o’clock.” 

“But how about lunch? Can we get any- 
thing out there ? ” 

“Yes. I know of a place where you can get 
a very decent meal,” said Marcia, with a droll 
look at Louise. 


180 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“Yery good. You’ll go out with me, Mr. 
Keith?” 

“With pleasure.” 

Just as Keith was leaving the hotel, he was 
called aside by Louise, for a confidential 
whisper. 

“Be sure to come, and don’t let anything 
keep papa. There is a special reason.” 

“ I see,” said Keith, gravely. “ When Miss 
Lucinda and a magpie combine forces, there is 
nothing left but to obey.” 

With a merry laugh she ran upstairs to get 
ready for the delightful morning with Marcia. 


A few days after this, Mac received the fol- 
lowing letter : 

“Philadelphia, Pa., January 5. 

“ Leak Mac : I cannot possibly wait until we 
come home to tell you of all the lovely things 
which have been happening. So, while papa 
and Mr. Keith have gone for a walk, and 
sister is taking a nap, I am going to write to 
you. 

“In the first place, then, we had a very 
pleasant journey here, stopping over one night 
in New York and driving through the park the 
next morning. We arrived here late in the 
afternoon and found Mr. Keith waiting for us 


The Secret. 


181 


at the station. He came to the hotel and had 
dinner with us. It was decided that we should 
go to sister’s home in the morning and get some 
one to pack up and dispose of her things. I 
happened to think how pleasant it would be if 
we could have dinner there, just as if it was 
still her home. So I asked her if we might, 
and she was willing. We told papa and Mr. 
Keith not to come out until two o’clock, but did 
not tell them that we were going to get dinner, 
as I wished to surprise them. 

“Sister and I left the hotel at nine o’clock 
and went out to Laurel street in the horse- cars. 
It is a long way, nearly as far as the mission. 
We stopped at a store and bought some slices 
of ham, which were to be broiled, some Irish 
potatoes and some oranges. We found every- 
thing all right at the house ; but such little bits 
of rooms, Mac, you never saw. They were as 
neat as a pin. The lady who lives down -stairs 
said that she had gone in and opened the win- 
dows and dusted every day, because she knew 
that ‘Mrs. Eliot hated dirt so much.’ Wasn’t 
that nice of her ? 

“The dishes were in the cunningest cup- 
boards. I got them out and set the table, 
while sister cooked the meat and potatoes and 
some turnips she had in the house. She made 
some biscuits, too, and boiled rice for dessert. 


182 


Over at Little Acorns. 


This, with oranges, was all we had. Oh ! yes, 
and delicious coffee. 

“We tried to have this dinner just hke those 
she and Mark and Marcia used to get. I am 
afraid they were very poor, Mac. It seemed 
like such a little bit of a dinner to me, but it 
tasted good. 

“Just at the last minute, I ran across the 
street to a florist’s and bought some violets — a 
bunch for each plate — and a beautiful pot of 
carnations in bloom. You don’t know how 
pretty they looked on the table. 

“Precisely at two o’clock, when the dinner 
was all ready to serve, papa and Mr. Keith 
came. Papa looked around the room, in his 
quiet way, and then went over and kissed sister 
and said something which I could not hear, but 
which made her look very happy. Mr. Keith 
was as jolly as he could be and said that he 
had never had such a good dinner before. We 
ate it all up, every speck, and sister said that 
if we were going to be regular boarders she 
should have to charge a good, big price. We 
had ever so much fun; but the best of it all 
was to come. When all the eatables had dis- 
appeared, papa said, ‘ Come, girls, clear away 
now. I have something to show you.’ 

.“Mr. Keith found a great apron which he 
tied on; and then he helped us. I wish you 


The Secret, 


183 


'jould have seen him. The dishes were washed 
and wiped and put away in a jiffy ; then I put 
the pretty red cover on the table and we all 
drew our chairs around it. 

“And then Mac — then — I learned all about 
the wonderful secret! For papa brought out 
a lot of plans for a chapel and asked us which 
we though would be the best and most suitable 
for our little mission. He told us, too, that it 
is to be built very soon, and that when it is 
finished Mr. Keith is to come to Standish to 
live and be the minister for all those people on 
the hill. 

“ I was so happy that I couldn’t sit still. I 
jumped up and ran around and gave papa a 
good hug and kiss, and sat on his knee while I 
looked over the plans. §ome of them were 
beautiful, some very simple, some too large, 
and some too small. We finally decided on 
one. It is to be made of that handsome grey 
stone, like Auntie Jean’s house, you know ; the 
stone they get over at that quarry on the moun- 
tain. It is to have a belfry and the dearest 
rose-window in one end. 

“Papa says that it might as well be made 
large enough to hold twice as many people as 
now come to the mission, and pretty enough to 
be an ornament to the village, which he thinks 
will soon grow up in that neigborhood. The 


184 


Over at Little Acorns. 


architect is already engaged, and the men will 
begin to work as soon as the weather is 
suitable. 

“There were so many things to be talked 
over and arranged for, that, before we knew it, 
it was too late for our ride. In the evening 
we went out to the mission. It would take too 
long to tell you of the service there and all the 
people. That can wait until I come home. 

“By the last of the week we shall be at 
Standish Hall again. Please give my best love 
to everybody there, especially to Mark and 
Marcia. I have wished all the time that they 
and you were here with us. 

“ I hope that Haco is well. Tell him that I 
shall not stay away from him much longer. 

“Lovingly, Louise.” 


CHAPTEE XXL 

HILDA. 

‘‘Where did you come from, baby dear? 

Out of the everywhere into here. 

'Where did you get your eyes of blue? 

Out of the skies, as I came through. 

“What makes the light in them sparkle and spin ? 

Some of the starrj' spikes left in. 

“What makes your forehead so smooth and high? 

A soft hand stroked it as I went by. 

‘ ‘ What makes your cheek like a warm white rose ? 

> ' J saw something better than any one knows. 

‘ ‘ Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss ? 

Three angels gave me at once a kiss. 

“Where did you get this pearly ear? 

God spoke, and it came out to hear. 

‘ ‘ Where did you get those arms and hands ? 

Love made itself into hooks and bands. 

“Feet, whence did you come, you darling things? 

From the same box as the cherub’s wings. 

“ How did they all come just to be you? 

God thought about me, and so I grew. 

“But how did you come to us, you dear? 

God thought about you, and so I am here.” 

— George MacDonald. 

A EEGULAE, old-fashioned, January thaw 
had melted the Christmas snow by the 
time Louise came home. The next morning 
the grass looked fresh and green, the sun shone 
brightly, and birds sang cheerily in the trees. 

185 


186 


Over at Little Acorns. 


About ten o’clock a smiling procession might 
have been seen crossing the lawn to “Little 
Acorns.” 

First walked Mr. Standish and Auntie Bell, 
followed by Mark and his mamma. Then came 
Louise, bearing in her arms what appeared to 
be a large, white bundle, and closely attended 
by Marcia and Mac. Just behind them was a 
rosy-cheeked nurse-maid, in snowy cap and 
apron. Haco bounded along, now in front, 
now bringing up the rear, never very far from 
his little mistress. 

It happened that Janet did not observe this 
“royal progress” until it was fairly beneath 
her roof — inside her cosy sitting-room, in fact. 
Somewhat surprised to receive so early a visit 
from the entire family, she arose with words 
of greeting, but stopped in utter amazement as 
Louise came forward and laid in her arms a baby 
girl, whose head was covered with golden curls, 
and whose blue eyes looked brightly up into 
her own. 

“ Here is your baby. Auntie Jean. Isn’t she 
a dear ? ” 

“She is, indeed,” said Janet, kissing the soft, 
round face. “But whose is she, Louise? I 
don’t quite understand.” And she looked from 
one to another of the little group. 

“Why, she is yours, of course. Don’t you 


Hilda. 


187 


remember that you said you wanted me to bring 
you one ? ” 

“ Here’s my walrus, auntie,” said Mac, com- 
ing forward and displaying a pretty silver 
charm attached to his watch-chain. “Maybe 
it will help you to recall our conversation with 
Louise the day she went away.” 

“Yes, I remember now. But I never dreamed 
of our wishes coming true, did you?” asked 
Janet, laughing. “ I think I have the advant- 
age of you, Mac, for a live baby is so much 
nicer than a silver one could be. 

“I’m thankful that she didn’t bring me a live 
walrus, though. This one is a beauty.” 

“But really, Louise, do tell me all about her. 
You cannot possibly mean that she is mine to 
keep ? 

“ Yes, truly, if you want her. I was trying 
to find the prettiest baby doll I could for you, 
when I heard sister telling Mr. Keith about 
this little girl. Her mother and father are dead, 
and the lady who has been taking care of her 
cannot keep her any longer, and she was about 
to be put in an asylum. I thought right away of 
what you had said only in fun, and I imagined 
how surprised you would be to have it really 
happen. I knew how lovely she was, too. So 
I asked sister. At first she said it would not be 
best; but when I told her all about it, and 


188 


Over at Little. Acorns, 


begged her to bring her to stay a while at our 
house if you did not want her, she said that 
she would. But don’t you think that you want 
to keep her, Auntie Jean?” 

Louise asked this in such an earnest way 
that there was no doubt of her wish in the 
matter. 

“ It was lovely of you to bring her, Louise, 
I thank you very much. Let her stay with me 
two or three weeks, and then we will see about 
‘always.’ I hope,” she said, turning to the rest 
of the company, “that you will pardon my 
neglect of you. I’m sure you will, since you 
know what a sweet little guest claims my at- 
tention. Has she a name, Louise ? ” 

“ Yes ; Hilda. Isn’t that a pretty name ? See, 
auntie, she is smiling now. Look at her dim- 
ple and two teeth, just as you said.” 

Baby Hilda seemed very well pleased with 
her new friend — indeed, with them all — for she 
laughed and crowed, and held out her hands 
to them, each in turn, as they gathered about 
Janet. Her cheeks were flushed with the ex- 
citement of the surprise. 

“How pretty Auntie Jean looks, doesn’t 
she ? ” whispered Marcia to her grandfather. 

“I think she is always pretty,” said Mark, 
who had overheard the remark ; “ the prettiest 
person I know, except mamma.” 


Hilda. 189 

“ Oh, of course. There is no one like 
mamma, is there, grandpa?” 

“ I don’t know of anybody who has two 
such remarkable children,” he replied, with a 
twinkle in his eyes. “ Come, Janet, you must 
not tire yourself out the first thing. Will you 
trust me to play nurse ? ” 

To the great amusement of Louise and little 
Marcia, he took the baby from Janet’s arms, 
and perching her upon his shoulder, began 
walking about the room. It was a pleasant 
sight, too, to the elder ones — the mingling of 
silvery locks and golden; the time-worn face of 
the man and the dimpled one of the child, both 
alight with smiles. 

Hilda enjoyed her triumphal march im- 
mensely, and was not at all willing to come 
down from her throne when Mr. Standish was 
called away. Mac begged for her. 

“ Indeed, Cousin Marcia, I know that I can 
hold her as safely as Uncle Mark did,” he said, 
in reply to her quick remonstrance. 

“Oh, you are strong enough. That is just 
the trouble. You will crush her.” 

“ Oh ! no, he wouldn’t, sister,” pleaded Louise. 
“ He is ever so gentle. Do let him take her, 
only once.” 

“ I really believe,” laughed Marcia, “ that you 
think Mac can do anything. Well, then — Mr. 


190 


Over at Little Acorns. 


Giant — come here and sit down. Don’t you 
dare to even so much as breathe while you 
hold this child. That is right. Put your arms 
out, so. There ; have you a good hold on 
her?” 

For a minute he sat as rigid as a statue, let- 
ting Hilda lie motionless on his outstretched 
armg. Then he cuddled her up against his 
shoulder and smoothed back her curls with 
one big hand as tenderly as her mother could 
have done. He bent his face to her warm, 
rosy one, and in that moment a strong love for 
the helpless httle creature was born in the 
hungry, lonely heart of the boy. She re- 
minded him of his own childhood, and so of 
the mother whom he so devotedly worshipped. 

They were all surprised at his nice ways with 
the baby. Louise was in raptures. 

“I knew that he would know how, sister. 
See, Hilda does not want to leave him. You 
know who loves you, don’t you, baby dear? 
Oh, no, Annet, it surely cannot be time for her 
nap yet.” 

“ Yes, miss, it is, some time ago.” 

The nurse again attempted to take Hilda 
from Mac ; but the chubby arms were close 
about his neck, and a vigorous ‘‘ no, no,” came 
from her pretty lips. Everybody laughed. 
Mac was as happy as a king. 


Hilda, 


191 


“ Where is she to go ? ” he asked. “ Back to 
the house ? I’ll take her.” 

“ No, indeed,” said Janet. “ This is her 
home for the present. Bring her into my 
room. We shall have to arrange a nursery.” 

At his bidding, Hilda waved them all a good- 
bye and they went off, followed by Janet and 
the nurse. 

‘‘ Oh, Marcia,” said Louise, “don’t you hope 
Auntie Jean will want to keep her?” 

“I do very much. But if she doesn’t, per- 
haps mamma will,” replied Marcia, shyly. “ I 
should like so much to have a little sister.” 

“I know that it is lovely to have a big one,” 
said Louise, caressing Marcia’s soft, brown 
hair. “ Come, let us go home now and show 
Mark and Marcia what we have brought for 
them. You’ll tell Auntie Jean good-bye for 
us, won’t you, Mac ? ” 

He had returned and established himself 
comfortably on the rug, with a favorite book 
in his hand. When Janet come back, half an 
hour later, she found him the sole occupant of 
the room. He sprang up and hastened to draw 
her special chair before the fire. Then he stood 
looking down at her, with a wistful expression 
in his eyes. Janet’s gaze was fixed on the 
glowing coals; her thoughts were busy. At 
length Mac said, softly, “You will keep her, 
won’t you. Auntie ? ” 


192 


Over at Little Acorns, 


“ That is just what I am thinking about, dear 
boy. I have wished many times for such a 
little child to care for and to love; and have 
thought that some day I would try and make a 
home for one of the many waifs and strays that 
need ‘mothering.’ My half -idle, half -earnest 
words to Louise seem to have opened the way 
clearly. But I must consider well before un- 
dertaking such a responsibility. It means a 
great deal, Mac.” 

“ I know. Auntie. But you have such a 
pleasant home here, and — and, well — you 
know, you seem just like a mother.” 

Mac was down on the rug again, kneeling 
before Janet and looking at her with all his 
heart in his eyes. 

She knew that what he had said was the 
highest praise he could utter, and she was 
deeply touched by it. She laid her hand 
gently on his head. 

“So it would make you happy if I should 
decide to keep little Hilda?” 

“Yes, indeed, it would. I cannot bear to 
think of her being sent to any asylum or any 
place where it is not nice and pretty as it is 
here. She seems to me like a little creature 
straight from heaven, as if, as if — I can’t ex- 
plain, exactly — auntie, but — but, don’t you un- 
derstand? I should feel so mean to get into 
one of my tempers before her.” 


Hilda. 


193 


Janet did not reply at once. She was think- 
ing, ‘‘and a little child shall lead them.” She 
looked at the lad’s earnest face, and read there 
the thoughts and emotions for which he could 
find no words. Might not this be one of the 
influences which should lead him to all things 
pure and lovely and of good report? 

A month’s further acquaintance with the 
little maiden so endeared her to them all that 
sending her back to Philadelphia was not, for 
a moment, to be thought of. The necessary 
legal formalities were gone through with, and 
Hilda MacDonald Sylvester was as much a part 
of the “ Little Acorns ” household as Miss Janet 
herself. 

“Was Hilda’s papa’s name MacDonald?” 
asked Louise, when she learned that this was 
the baby’s second name. 

“No, dear. It was Graham,” replied Janet, 
smiling. 

“Then, why,” she began, but stopped sud- 
denly when she saw that Mac too was smil- 
ing. “Do you mean that she is named for 
Mac? How lovely. How did you come to 
think of this, though ? ” she asked, curiously. 

“Oh, I thought that it was a pretty name. 
Don’t you think so ? ” 

Janet did not tell her, nor any one, of the 
glimpse she had had of Mac’s heart that morn- 
13 


194 


Over at Little A corns. 


ing by the fireside. Indeed, she made no ex- 
planations to him, when she told him that 
Hilda was to bear his name in addition to her 
own. But he understood, and she knew by 
the way in which he said, simply, “ thank you,’' 
that he pledged himself to the service of his 
sweet little “ name-lady ” as loyally as ever did 
knight of old. 


CHAPTEK XXIL 


THE PRIZE ESS A T. 


*■ ‘ Cessar shall forth : the things that threatened me 
Ne’er looked but on my back ; when they shall see 
The face of CsBsar, they are vanished.” 

— William STiakspere. 

HE following Monday school began. Mac 



entered the senior class of the Standish 
High School by special arrangement, and went 
to work with a will to make up for lost time. 

Louise was somewhat in advance of Mark 
and Marcia, but from choice joined the first 
section of the grammar grade with them. 

“ It will be so much nicer to be studying the 
same lessons, papa,” she had explained, “and 
then I really have forgotten a good deal of the 
arithmetic.” 

“Is it possible?” he asked, pinching her ear. 
“I never would have believed it.” 

The next weeks were busy and happy. 
Whenever the weather was suitable the chil- 
dren walked to the village, leaving Standish 
Hall by eight o’clock. This gave them plenty 
of time, and often a few minutes’ conversation 
with some of the boys and girls. School closed 
at three. Sometimes they stayed for a game of 


195 


196 


Over at Little Acorns. 


tennis or foot-ball; sometimes joined a party 
for a stroll in the woods ; sometimes they came 
directly home and soon appeared in archery 
costume and enjoyed an hour or two of shoot- 
ing. In one way or another the time until six 
o’clock supper was spent out of doors. From 
half-past seven until nine, good, hard studying 
was done. Very soon after that they were 
far away in the land of nod. 

One afternoon Mac did not join the others at 
their accustomed meeting-place — a certain large 
oak between the high and grammar schools. 
After waiting some time a boy brought Louise 
a note. It read : 

“Dear Louise: I cannot come for a good 
while probably. Better not wait. We are hear- 
ing about the prize essays. Mac.” 

They went on without him. When he ar- 
rived at home an hour later he had great 
news. 

“I tell you, we had an exciting time,” he 
said. “You see. Professor Dana’s father, who 

is professor in the Q College, offered a 

prize of $20 for the best essay written by any 
member of the senior class on ‘Napoleon; the 
Man, not the Soldier.’ And at about the same 
time Professor Cook’s brother, who used to 


197 


7%(5 Prize Essay. 

be a teacher here, offered a prize of the same 
amount for the best essay written by a member 
of the senior class on ‘Julius Caesar’s Greatest- 
Work.’ The professors decided that but one 
of these offers could be accepted, and left the 
choice to the class. That is what we stayed to 
see about. We voted by ballot, and it took 
forty-five minutes to decide, for, as it happened, 
we were nearly equally divided. The voting 
ran close, I tell you, and we all got pretty well 
excited. I wanted Caesar, of course. You know 
he is one of my prime favorites, and I’ve read 
up a lot about him. Napoleon, I haven’t any 
opinion of, particularly as a man, so I was all 
out there. As good luck would have it, the 
twelfth ballot turned the scale in favor of 
Caesar, and now I’m going to work in earnest 
for that $20 and the glory besides.” 

“Hurrah for Mac!” cried Mark, throwing up 
his cap, and three rousing cheers were given, 
in which the girls joined heartily. 

“ When must the essays be ready, Mac ? ” in- 
quired Louise. 

“On the first day of May, at twelve o’clock.” 

“ And this is — let me see — the thirty-first of 
March. Oh ! you have four weeks. That is a 
long time.” 

“Yes, but you see we have to put it in out- 
side of our regular work, and we are limited to 


198 


Over at Little Acorns. 


twelve hundred words, so we shall have to boil 
down a good deal.” 

“Oh! I do hope you will get it, Mac. We 
shall be so proud of you. Don’t you think 
you stand a good chance ? ” 

Mac laughed, but he flushed a little, too. 

“I don’t know. There are some solid fellows 
in the class. But I can try.” 

“And we can help you,” said Marcia, who 
had been listening with a great deal of interest. 
“I mean,” she added, shyly, “we can bring you 
the books, and hunt out references and such 
things, just as mamma does for grandpa some- 
times.” 

“ So we can,” said Louise. “ I never thought 
of that. We’d love to do it, Mac.” 

“All right. I’ll let you know when I want 
you.” 

At first Mac was inclined to treat their offer 
rather in the light of a joke. But he soon 
found that it was very convenient to have cer- 
tain volumes at hand, with slips of paper mark- 
ing different passages which he had asked to 
have looked up, to find his pencils always in 
perfect order, and to know that loving sentinels 
were keeping guard to see that no one dis- 
turbed him. 

Auntie Jean, on hearing of the important 
event, had loaned him her library, as likely to 


199 


The Prize Essay, 

be more quiet than any room at the Hall. So 
the girls had carried over all the needed books 
and papers, which were spread about on the 
tables and floor without fear of disarrangement. 
Mac worked industriously, and toward the end 
of April announced to his admiring assistants 
that his essay was nearly completed. 

“ I have everything ready, and a rough copy 
made ; it runs over two thousand words, though, 
so I’ll have to cut it a little more, and then 
make a final copy in my very best hand, and 
then — wait as patiently as I can for the award 
to be made.” 

During the writing of this last copy, Louise 
and Marcia tip-toed about in Janet’s sitting- 
room, too excited to sit still, too anxious to set 
themselves to work at anything. 

“I hope that he will read it to us, don’t 
you ? ” asked Marcia, in a whisper. 

“Oh! of course he will. I feel as if I knew 
a good deal about Caesar now,” replied Louise. 
“We have looked up so many things and copied 
off such a lot of names. What do you suppose 
they had such hard names for in those days. 
I don’t see how they ever pronounced them.” . 

“Nor I. Just imagine calling a baby like 
Hilda, Numa Pompilius or Lucius Volusianus 
Maecianus.” 

“I don’t believe they had such dear little 


200 


Over at Little Acorns, 


babies in that age of the world or they couldn’t 
have done it,” said Louise, giving Hilda a hug 
and kissing her rosy cheek. “ Don’t you hope, 
hope, hope, Hilda, dear, that our Mac will get 
the prize ? ” 

“ Um — goo — goo — ya,” said Hilda, emphati- 
cally. 

“There, that is German for ‘yes,’” exclaimed 
Marcia. “Alice Graves told me so. ‘Ya’ is 
yes and ‘nine’ is no. How do you suppose 
they tell whether they mean the number ‘ nine ’ 
or just ‘no’? ” 

“Why, they have another word for ‘nine,’ 
goosie,” said Louise, laughing. 

“Oh ! so they do, of course. I wonder what 
it is. I want to study German when I go to 
the high school. Mark learned a good deal of 
it from that old wood-carver, but I could never 
remember the funny sounds.” 

The first day of May fell on Wednesday. 
Tuesday afternoon, just before dinner, Mac 
brought the essay, beautifully written and fast- 
ened neatly together with blue ribbon, over to 
Standish Hall and read it to a small but deeply- 
interested audience. Every one declared it to 
be fine and congratulated Mac. 

“ It is a good piece of work, my boy,” said 
Mr. Standish, “ and is worthy of the prize even 
if it does not win it.” 


The Prize Essay. 


201 


‘‘ But he will, papa, I feel sure,” said Louise. 
“ None of the others can possibly be as good.” 

“ Not in your eyes, certainly,” he said, laugh- 
ing. “ Hilda thinks it is pretty nice, too.” 

Her eye was caught by the blue ribbon and 
her fingers were reaching out to grasp it. 

“No, no, baby,” cried Marcia, “that pre- 
cious piece of paper cannot be trusted to your 
hands.” 

“ I expect that there will be a mounted guard 
over it all night,” said J anet. 

“No,” said Mac, smiling, “I shall leave it in 
the drawer of your desk and am coming over 
early for it. We have a written examination in 
geometry to-morrow forenoon, and I want to 
get to school by eight o’clock. I forgot to bring 
my book home and must look up two or three 
things.” 

The girls accompanied Mac to “ Little 
Acorns” the next morning to take a last peep 
at the famous essay. They went laughing to 
the library — and what a sight met their eyes. 

There on the fioor sat Hilda, playing with the 
blue ribbon she had coveted, and which still 
held together the leaves, now blotted and wet 
with ink. Her dress and hands were covered 
with it, too, and the overturned inkstand on 
the table, from which a black stream was trick- 
ling slowly down, told the dismal tale. 


202 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“ Ga— ga — Mac — take — take,” cried the little 
mischief, dropping the ribbon at once and put- 
ting up her arms toward Mac. 

Mac groaned. The girls, as pale as he, stood 
speechless with dismay and grief. 

Some one came into the room behind them. 
It was Annet, the nurse. 

“Have you seen Miss Hilda, miss?” she 
asked Louise. “ I left the nursery a minute to 
speak to Miss Janet and when I came back she 
was gone. I’ve been looking for her every- 
where.” 

Louise stepped aside and pointed to the 
floor. 

“ Oh ! the saints forgive her, the blessed 
darlin’. Oh! Miss Hilda, Miss Hilda, what- 
ever have you done ? ” 

The baby’s lip quivered and big tears gath- 
ered in her eyes. She was frightened at the 
strange looks she saw. She clung, sobbing, to 
Annet, who picked her up and carried her 
away, leaving the luckless essay where it fell. 
One glance at its soaked and stained pages 
was enough to show that it was hopelessly 
ruined. 

Louise and Marcia were sobbing, too. 

“Never mind, girls,” said Mac in a choked 
voice, “ it is all my fault. I came in a hurry 
to put it away and thought it would be safe 


The Prize Esmy. 203 

enough on the desk. I ought to have put it in 
the drawer.” 

He turned away. 

“ But-can’t you do something? ” asked Louise, 
in despair. 

‘‘No. I shall have only just time now to look 
at two or three theorems before the examina- 
tion. That is ‘regular,’ you know, and can’t 
be cut, or else I’d stay at home and copy it. 
The notes are all here,” and he took up a 
bundle of neatly- written papers. “ It’s all here, 
just as I copied it yesterday. Well, he said, 
with a sorry attempt at a smile, “ what can’t be 
cured must be endured. Don’t feel so about 
it, girls. I don’t care so very . . . .” but he 
could not finish. He did care, more than he 
could tell. He left the room and the house, 
only stopping a moment in the nursery to take 
Hilda in his arms and lay his hot cheek against 
her soft one. 

“ It wasn’t your fault, baby dear. Mac 
wasn’t cross with you when he wouldn’t take 
you.” 

Hilda seemed to understand and gave his 
hair a loving pull. He kissed her and put her 
gently down. 


CHAPTEE XXIII. 


JUST IN TIME. 


“ He who helps another 
Strengthens more than one.” 


— iMcy Larcom. 


OE a few minutes after he left the library 



_JJ the girls cried bitterly. The disappoint- 
ment seemed greater than they could bear. To 
think that after all the pains and careful work 
that Mac had bestowed on the essay, it should 
at the very last moment be utterly destroyed. 

They lifted the wet leaves carefully, hoping 
against hope that something could be done. 
But, alas! 

Auntie Jean by this time had learned of the 
calamity and hurried in, viewing the ruined 
sheets with consternation and distress. 

“What a pity! What a shame!” she cried. 
“It is too bad for anything. What did Mac 


say?” 


“He didn’t say much, but, oh! auntie, he 
looked so. It made my heart ache to see him.” 

“ Poor boy! If there had only been time for 
him to copy it.” 

Just then the clock struck eight. At almost 
the same instant Marcia sprang up with a 
radiant face. 


204 


Just in Time. 


205 


“Oh! Louise, let us copy it for him. It 
doesn’t have to be handed in until noon. 
Couldn’t we ? ” 

Janet looked almost as excited as the girls. 

“ How can you ? ” she asked. “ You can never 
make this out.” 

“But Mac said that this was a perfect copy, 
only, don’t you see, it is not on nice paper? 
Couldn’t you tell by reading it over, while we 
run and ask mamma if we can stay at home this 
forenoon to do it?” 

“Certainly, dear. But, Marcia, it will be a 
long piece of work for you, I’m afraid.” 

“I don’t mind that, if we can only get it done 
in time.” 

The sad tale was soon poured into “mamma” 
Marcia’s sympathizing ear, and the desired per- 
mission gladly given. She came to “Little 
Acorns” with the girls to assist them in any 
way she could. But even with her and Auntie 
Jean to prepare the sheets of paper, and help 
with the long words, it was a tedious labor for 
Marcia’s willing hand. 

The twelve hundred words seemed endless; 
they were finished at last, however, and Janet 
had the clearly- written pages fastened with an- 
other piece of blue ribbon by the time the girls 
had their hats and coats on. 

It was half-past eleven; but the carriage 


206 


Over at Little Acorns. 


stood at the door. The doubly precious parcel 
was given into Louise’s keeping, and she did 
not let it go out of her hands. 

“Just make the horses fly, John,” she said, as 
they drove away. And fly they did. It wanted 
yet ten minutes of twelve when a messenger 
brought word that some one wished to see 
MacDonald Caldwell in the reception-room. 

The geometry examination was just over, and 
Mac, who had tried hard to keep the catas- 
trophe of the morning out of his mind and 
bend all his energies resolutely to the work in 
hand, felt worn and exhausted. He was look- 
ing at the rapidly-growing pile of essays on 
the teacher’s desk and thinking of his own, 
ink- stained and spoiled, on the library floor. 
Almost mechanically he went to the reception- 
room, hardly wondering or caring who could 
wish to see him at this hour. Scarcely had he 
crossed the threshold when Louise thrust the 
copied essay into his hands, exclaiming, “Oh! 
Mac, here it is. Marcia copied it. It is all 
right; auntie said so. Is it in time?” 

It was the work of but a second for Mac to 
tear it open. He ran his eyes hastily over 
page after page, and rushed away without a 
word, but with a happy face which told the 
joyful girls that their labor of love had not been 
in vain. 


Just in Time. 


207 


It was just two minutes to twelve when Mac, 
walking on air, took his essay to the desk. 
Professor Dana glanced at the clock and smiled. 

‘‘Just in time, my lad.” 

“Yes, sir,” answered Mac, smiling broadly in 
return. “An accident happened to my essay, 
and I gave it all up, but my cousin copied it 
from my notes, and has just brought it.” 

“Ah! I am glad. That was clever of him.’* 

Mac laughed aloud now. 

“ It wasn’t ‘ him ’ at all, but a little girl in the 
grammar grade. She is bright, though, for all 
that.” 

“I should say so. Are you quite sure that 
this is all right ? ” 

“I think so. I ran over it.” 

Professor Dana looked at the neat pages, 
written in a round, girlish hand. 

“That is well done, Mac. She deserves a 
prize of her own.” 

“She does, indeed, sir. She must have done 
it since eight o’clock this morning, but I don’t 
know anything yet except that it is here. There 
was not a minute to lose to get it to you in 
time.” 

Mac went off to find the girls, as happy now 
as he was miserable fifteen minutes before. He 
soon discovered them with Mark waiting for 
him. 


208 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“Oh! Marcia,” he cried, “how can I ever 
thank you? It was jolly of you to think of 
doing that. But wasn’t it a job?” 

“Oh! I didn’t mind it,” said she, blushing 
with pleasure. “Louise helped me, and so did 
mamma and Auntie Jean.” 

“I don’t deserve it for being so careless. 
But I never thought of any one’s getting in 
there.” 

“Nobody would have done it but Hilda. I 
suppose she ran in and then saw the blue 
ribbon and tugged away until she got it, ink 
and all.” 

“Didn’t she look cute?” asked Marcia. 

“ Well, maybe she did ; but I didn’t think so 
then,” said Mac, laughing. 

“Oh! neither did I then. Dear little girl! 
she never dreamed of the mischief she was 
doing.” 

“ Marcia,” said Mac, presently, “ you ought 
to have heard all the nice things that Professor 
Dana said about you. I told him that some- 
thing happened to my essay, and that a little 
girl in the grammar grade made another copy 
this forenoon. He looked at it, praised it 
highly, and said that you deserved a prize of 
your own. And so you do. You are a real 
little jewel of a girl, Marcia. I shall not forget 
this very soon, I assure you.” 


Just in Time. 


209 


Everybody at home was delighted when they 
learned that the second copy reached Mac in 
season ; and now came the time of waiting until 
the prize was given. 

Each month public exercises of a literary 
character were held in the high-school hall. 
These were attended by all the pupils and by 
many of their friends. The audience in May 
was larger than usual, it having been given out 
that the Cook prize would be awarded then. 

Professor Dana announced that seventeen 
essays had been handed in, on the subject, 
Julius Caesar’s Greatest AVork.” All of them 
were creditable and interesting. One, however, 
far excelled the others, showing that an un- 
usual amount of careful thought and prepara- 
tion had been bestowed upon it. The boy who 
wrote it, he said, had already made, himself a 
good reputation for thorough class-room work, 
although he had been in the school but a com- 
paratively short time, and he hoped that he 
would find great encouragement in this suc- 
cess. He referred to MacDonald Caldwell, who 
would please come forward and receive the 
Henry Cook prize of twenty dollars. 

Amid a storm of applause, Mac, pale, but 
self-possessed, walked to the rostrum. Two 
shining eaglesvwere placed in his hand, and, 
with a bow of thanks, he returned to his seat. 

14 


210 


Over at Little Acorns. 


As soon as quiet was restored the essay was 
read by one of the teachers, and was roundly 
cheered. At its conclusion Professor Dana 
said that he wished to relate to the audience 
an interesting incident in connection with this 
essay. He then briefly, but graphically, told 
the history of the accident and the circum- 
stances of its recopying, which, unknown to 
the children, he had learned from Janet. 

“It seems to me,” he concluded, “that this 
thoughtful and unselfish cousin is deserving of 
a prize, too. If she will kindly come forward, 
it will give me a great deal of pleasure to pre- 
sent her with a little reminder of the work she 
did, , without which Mac could never have won 
his prize, however much he may have deserved 
it.” 

Deafening cheers greeted Marcia as, with 
crimson cheeks and downcast eyes, she was led 
forward by Mac. Scarcely knowing what she 
did, she took the box which Professor Dana 
handed her, thanking him with a shy, grateful 
glance. 

At the reception which immediately followed 
the exercises, she was quite the “lioness” of 
the hour, as Mark said, and was constantly 
called upon to display the beautiful gold pen 
with pearl holder, which the box contained. 

But Mac came in for a share of the honors. 


Just in Time. 


211 


too, and no one was more proud of him, or 
more pleased with Marcia’s gift, than Louise. 

“It is splendid of Mac to be so smart,” she 
declared, as they were riding home, “and lovely 
of you, Marcia, to be such a dear. I feel too 
proud for anything of you both.” 

“ But what I did was so little. I really don’t 
see what they made such a fuss over it for.” 

“It is true that, in one sense, it was a little 
thing,” said her grandfather; “but just such 
little things, done in a sweet spirit, make great 
ones possible.” 


CHAPTEE XXIV. 

ON THE HILLSIDE, 


“Slowly, slowly up the wall 

Steals the sunshine, steals the shade ; 
Evening damps begin to fall. 

Evening shadows are displayed. 
Round me, o’er me everywhere. 

All the sky is grand with clouds. 

And athwart the evening air 
Wheel the swallows home in crowds.” 


■Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 


O the delight of every one concerned, it 



I turned out that the mission chapel could 
be commenced much sooner than had been an- 
ticipated. Mr. Standish received word from 
the superintendent of the quarries that a quan- 
tity of prepared stone had been left, unex- 
pectedly, on his hands, and that it could be 
sent to him at once, if desired. 

So a long delay was avoided, and the im- 
patient young people had the great satisfaction 
of seeing the foundations laid and the substan- 
tial grey blocks rising into position, tier by 
tier, by the time the June roses bloomed. 

Very often, after school, they walked up the 
hillside and spent a happy hour within sight 
and sound of the busy workmen. One lovely 


212 


On the Hillside. 


213 


afternoon they sat down on the grass to ar- 
range into bouquets a quantity of wild flowers 
which they had been gathering. At least 
Louise and Marcia did this. Mark was mak- 
ing a willow whistle, and Mac, stretched on 
the soft, thick turf, looked up at the walls of the 
chapel, now nearly at their full height. 

Long and lovingly he regarded them, and his 
thoughts were busy with both past and future. 

They flew backward to the days of the past 
summer when he had been so wretched ; to the 
time when Keith found him sobbing in almost 
this very spot and had been so rudely re- 
pulsed; to the hour when Louise’s loving 
sympathy had melted the pride of his aching 
heart, and opened the way for the nobler im- 
pulses which had guided him since then ; for- 
ward to the work which was to be done in the 
hearts and homes of the people within sound 
of the chapel bell; work which, thanks to the 
generosity of Mr. Standish, could be done at 
once, and into which Keith would thiow his 
whole soul ; work which even he might help 
to do. 

His eyes kindled and his face lighted up 
as he .realized something of what such work 
meant; what loving service for the Master it 
would be — the winning of souls to pure and 
unselflsh living through his law of love. 


214 Over at Little Acorns, 

Marcia had been shyly watching him for 
some minutes. She wondered what he could 
be thinking about to look so happy. Presently 
she made a soft little ball of daisies and threw 
it over at him. Coming down squarely on his 
rather sizable nose, it brought his eyes down 
from the chapel walls and his thoughts to 
his forgotten companions. He looked quickly 
around him. Louise and Mark, quite unmind- 
ful of the dainty missile, were busy with their 
respective labors. Marcia, demure and inno- 
cent, was absorbed in tying up a big bunch of 
daisies.' But her cheeks were suspiciously 
pink, and Mac noticed that Louise’s daisies 
were all woven into a long chain and that her 
lap was now full of clover-heads. 

“You are a good shot, Marcia,” he said. 
“Let us see if you are as good at answering 
questions. What shall we call our chapel?” 

“ Why, how do you know that I threw it ? ” 
she began in pretended astonishment; but her 
dimples betrayed her. “I declare,” she said, 
laughing, “you are getting to see through the 
back of your head almost as well as Mr. Keith 
can.” 

“I’m glad to be like him in any way,” ex- 
claimed the lad, heartily. “But now for the 
name. What shall it be, Marcia? Suppose 
we each suggest one. We’ll set our wits to 


On the Hillside. 


215 


work, and in fifteen minutes we will write our 
choice on these bits of paper.’’ 

They all agreed to this novel plan. Mac 
took out his watch and laid it on the grass 
near by. A deep silence followed, and at the 
end of the time each one made his record. 
Mac read them aloud : Sunshine Mission, 
Marcia ; Standish Chapel, Mark ; Little Acorns 
Mission, Louise ; Golden Kule Mission, Mac. 

“Now,” said he, “let us give our reasons for 
selecting these names. Yours comes first, 
Marcia.” 

“I noticed the sunshine on the trees and on 
the pretty grey stones, and thought how much 
prettier it made them look ; then I thought that 
having the chapel here will bring so much sun- 
shine into the lives of these people. For I 
knowhow happy the one in Philadelphia has 
made some of the people there. And so I 
chose that for the name.” 

“That is a lovely thought, Marcia,” said 
Louise, softly. 

“Your turn next, Marcus Aurelius.” 

“Well,” began Mark, earnestly, “I’d like to 
have it called Standish Chapel because toy 
grandfather gave the money to build it with. 
Just like Girard College, you know, or the 
Smithsonian Institute at Washington. So 
that everybody will always know who was 


216 Over at Little Acorns, 

so kind as to think of it, and to do it, 
too.” 

“Not a bad notion, my boy. I never thought 
of naming it after Uncle Mark. Now, Louise, 
what say you ? ” 

“I’m afraid my reasons will not sound very 
‘ reasonable ’ after hearing Mark’s and Marcia’s. 
But I do wish to call it Little Acorns Mission 
because that is the name of Auntie Jean’s 
home, and the place where we first knew Mr. 
Keith. And then she cares so much about it 
and all the good it will do; and — and — you 
know, too, that she hasn’t anybody really be- 
longing to her as sister and papa and Uncle 
Ben do to us — and, I think she would like it 
so much. This doesn’t sound like very much 
of a reason when I tell it,” she said, hesi- 
tatingly, “but I know just how it seems to 
me. And besides,” she said, with more confi- 
dence, “‘great oaks from little acorns grow,’ 
and maybe our chapel will be a large church 
some of these days.” 

No one spoke for a few minutes and Louise 
felt that her selection met with little favor. 

“I chose the name of Golden Buie because 
it seems to me that building it and carrying on 
the work up here is doing to others exactly as 
we should like to have them do to us if we were 
the people living here on this hillside. And it 
is the rule Christ gave us,” said Mac. 


On the Hillside, 


217 


‘‘ I like that very much,” said Louise. 

“So do I,” declared Mark. “ All four of the 
names are so good that I don’t see how we can 
decide on one of them. Each one seems to be 
just right.” 

“ I have a plan,” said Marcia. “ Let us think 
it over without saying anything yet to the folks 
at home. Then come up here to-morrow — no, 
to-morrow Professor Gillette is going to take 
us out in the woods — but the next after- 
noon come, and tell which one we like the 
best.” 

“So say we all of iis,” sang Mac. 

“All right,” said Mark. 

Mark blew a shrill blast on his now finished 
whistle, and as if in answer the faint but clear 
tones of a bugle were heard below the hill. 

“Supper. Who would have thought that it 
could be six o’clock.” 

“Not for twenty minutes yet. Jonas has 
allowed us a margin in which to get to the 
table in good order, clever old soul that he is. 
Come, girls, we’ll carry the posies.” 

When they met there again, at the time ap- 
pointed, it was evident that all minds were fully 
made up. Names were quickly written on the 
slips of paper produced by Mac. As he opened 
them, one after the other, a smile of satisfac- 
tion broadened upon his face, and at last he 


218 


Over at Little Acorns. 


exclaimed, heartily, “Hurrah for you, Louise! 
Every one votes for Little Acorns Mission as 
the name of our chapel.” 

Louise flushed crimson with surprise and 
pleasure. 

“I am so glad. I thought no one quite liked 
it the other day.” 

“The more I thought about it the better I 
liked it. It seems fair to let the name be con- 
nected with Auntie Jean’s home and the money 
with grandpa. It divides it between them,” 
said Mark, rather incoherently. But they all 
knew what he meant. 

“Yes, I think so, too. Because Auntie Jean 
is really the only one of us who has ever done 
anything for the mill and quarry people until 
now. She interested Mr. Keith in them last 
summer and they all think there is nobody like 
‘Miss Janet.’ I am sure they will be delighted 
with this name, and I am sure j too > that it will 
please her.” c 

“No doubt of that. But, Mac, we seem to 
take it for granted that we can decide all about 
this matter. Won’t the others have something 
to say,? ” asked Louise. 

“I should think that grandpa is the one to 
settle it,” said Mark, “and I don’t see how he 
can help being satisfled with our choice.” 

Mark was right. Not only Mr. Standish, but 


On the Hillside, 


219 


all tlie ‘‘others” approved of it. Orders were 
at once given to have the letters prettily cnt in 
the stone which was to be above the front door 
of the chapel ; and Mr. Keith very soon learned 
that the place of his future labors had not only 
a “local habitation,” but a “name.” 

Janet was pleased and deeply touched by 
this loving tribute to her home and herself on 
the part of the children. 

“God setteth the solitary in families,” she 
said, softly. 


CHAPTEE XXY. 

GOOD-BYE. 


“Apples in the orchard, 
Mellowing one by one ; 
Strawberries upturning 
Soft cheeks to the sun ; 

Roses faint with sweetness ; 

Lilies fair of face ; 

Drowsy scents and murmurs 
Haunting every place ; 
Lengths of golden sunshine ; 

Moonlight bright as day; — 
Don’t you think that summer ’s 
Pleasanter than May ? ” 


— Thomas Bailey Aldrich. 



IHE middle of June had long been looked 


jL_ forward to as a time of special delight, 
for several exceedingly pleasant things were to 
happen then. 

In the first place, school would close. Al- 
though they had all enjoyed it very much, 
vacation would not be unwelcome. 

In the next place, Keith was coming “for 
good,!’ as Mac said, “the best ‘good’ that ever 
was.” 

Then Helen, Alec, and Charlie had promised 
to spend the first month of the holidays at 
“The Acorns.” 


220 


221 


Good-bye. 

With such a combination as this, there seemed 
to be no limit to the possible good times, and 
many were the consultations, suggestions, and 
plans in regard to them. 

“We must have a picnic over on Black 
Mountain, for one thing,” said Louise. “You 
have never been there, and it is the loveliest 
place, I think. One part is just as dark, and 
highway-robbery! it makes you shiver when 
you are driving through it.” 

“It must be charming, indeed,” said Mac, 
teasingly. “Are there not some dungeons or 
chambers of the inquisition in the neighbor- 
hood? It would be so jolly — wouldn’t it, Mar- 
cia ? — to be chained to a pillar, like Bonnivard, 
for a day or two, or to be stretched on a wheel, 
like the old mar — ” 

“You saucy fellow!” interrupted Louise, 
blushing, “you know very well that I didn’t 
mean anything of that kind. That mountain 
road is dark and gloomy in some places, 
and—” 

“You can imagine you hear a deep voice 
saying, ‘Halt! Your money or your life!’ Eh? 
Well, Marcia, I think that we can manage to 
live through that, and then the next day I will 
take you all over to Clover Island. It may 
seem a trifle tame, for I can promise you no 
adventures; but there will be half an hour’s 


222 


Over at Little Acorns. 


ride on the train, an hour’s sail on the lake, 
and all day on the prettiest island I know of.” 

“Oh! oh! Mac, how perfectly lovely of you!” 
cried Louise. “ That is the very nicest place 
anywhere around here, Marcia.” 

Marcia looked as though she thought that 
none of the places in the region could be other 
than nice. 

“And then,” Louise went on, “one day we 
must go out to the farm huckleberrying. We 
will take our dinner with us, and get Mrs. 
Flake to send us up a lot of bowls and some 
milk, so we can have huckleberries and milk 
for dinner. Do you know how good that is, 
Mark?” 

“Yes, indeed; I guess I do.” 

“ It is such fun to pick them,” said Marcia. 
“ There are no briers like those on blackberry 
vines, and the berries come rattling down into 
your pail so easily.” 

“What has become of our boating suits? 
We have not had them out this summer.” 

“Auntie Bell has them put away. You will 
have to have one made, Marcia. Papa will let 
us go out with the boys this year, I am sure ; 
and I think we could go ourselves, down just 
back of the park. I am going to ask him if we 
cannot.” 

A few days after this talk there came a sud- 


Good-bye. 


223 


3.en, and, to the children, most unexpected, in- 
terruption to all their plans. 

Mr. Standish had noticed for some time that 
Marcia was not gaining strength as he had 
hoped she would do when spring opened. She 
was not ill, and she never complained, but her 
white cheeks and listless manner filled him with 
disquiet. As the result of consultations with 
the old family physician and some correspond- 
ence between the elder members of the fami- 
lies, it was announced that the entire family 
were to pass the summer at the seashore. 

Mrs. Norton owned a cottage there, in which 
she always spent several weeks with her chil- 
dren. It was arranged that the Standish fam- 
ily should be her near neighbors, so that the 
children would still be together during the va- 
cation. The packing-up was at once begun, 
and by the last of June all was ready for their 
departure. 

On the very last evening Janet invited them 
all to take tea with her in the “ Little' Acorns” 
garden. A long table was spread beneath the 
oaks, and covered with many kinds of good 
things to eat, besides bunches of lovely flowers 
at each plate, and masses of bloom down the 
centre. 

But the best of all was Keith’s beloved and 
smiling face. He had been detained in Phila- 


224 


Over at Little Acorns. 


delphia longer than he expected, and Janet 
warned the children not to be too greatly dis- 
appointed if they did not see him before their 
departure. Happily, however, he arrived late 
that afternoon, and stood by Janet’s side to 
welcome them. 

Mac, big fellow that he was, turned a hand- 
spring of delight before he could settle down; 
and Louise drew a long breath of perfect con- 
tent when she saw him. 

“And the best of it is,” Mac said, “that you 
are not going away again.” 

“ Not for a long time, I hope, my boy. But 
how do you suppose that I am going to man- 
age without you all this summer? Don’t you 
think it is rather shabby to desert me in this 
fashion ? ” 

“Oh! you vdll have Hilda and Auntie Jean,” 
replied Mac ; and then he wondered what they 
were all laughing at. 

“And so it has come to this already,” said 
Keith, with a funny glance across at Janet. 
“ Mac, my lad, do you know that my acquaint- 
ance with Miss Hilda began several months 
before yours did ? You need not be surprised 
to find yourself quite cut out when you come 
home.” 

“I’m not afraid,” Mac rephed — “not of you; 
but be sure to keep the other fellows away,” he 
added, laughing. 


225 


Good-hye. 

“I cannot promise to do that, if they should 
once get a peep at the young lady. They v/ould 
be sure to lose their hearts in short order,” an- 
swered Keith, brushing one of Hilda’s golden 
curls around his finger. 

‘‘Auntie Jean,” said Louise, “do you remem- 
ber that morning last summer when I came over 
here, and saw Mr. Keith for the first time?” 

“Very well, Louise.” 

“And have you ever thought what beautiful 
things this year, since then, has brought us ? I 
have been counting them up. First, and best 
of all, there is sister,” she said, giving a loving 
glance at Marcia; “then Mark and little Mar- 
cia; then Mr. Keith coming here to stay al- 
ways ; then dear, darling Hilda ; then the mis- 
sion chapel, and all the happy times we have 
had. Isn’t that a lovely year full ? ” 

“ It surely is, Louise, good measure, pressed 
down, running over. I think we can each one 
truly say that the year has been a blessed one 
to us.” 

The next morning they were stirring very 
early at both houses, and immediately after 
breakfast all gathered on the veranda at “ The 
Acorns” for the last good-bye. 

“I’m going to leave Haco in your care, if 
you please, Mr. Keith,” said Louise, with her 
hand on his silver collar. “ Here is your mas- 
15 


226 


Over at Little Acorns, 


ter, doggie dear, and you must mind all lie 
tells you, wont you?” 

Haco wagged his tail very intelligently, but 
he reached over and licked Hilda’s rosy cheek 
with his pink tongue, as much as to say that 
he thought she would be a nice little mistress 
to have. Hilda’s blue eyes opened very wide 
at this queer caress, and she drew back ; but, 
after looking at him for a minute, she put out 
her hand and pulled his silky hair, all ready 
for a frolic. 

“Here are the carriages, girls,” called Mac. 
“Get on your hats.” 

They ran upstairs, closely followed by Haco. 

“I wish that you were coming with us, Mr. 
Keith,” said Mac, wistfully, to his loved friend. 

“ Thank you, Mac, I wish so, too, or I should 
wish so if there were not so much to be done 
here to get our chapel all in order before cold 
weather. Perhaps I will run down for a day 
or two some time in August.” 

Louise and Marcia soon appeared, looking 
very pretty in their blue travelling -jackets and 
caps. Good-byes were merrily exchanged all 
around, while Mac put valises and satchels into 
the carriages. 

“All we youngsters go in here,” cried Mark, 
assisting the girls into the first carriage and 
jumping in himself. 


Good-bye. 


227 


Mac, after seeing Mr. Standisli, Marcia, and 
Auntie Bell drive away, ran up for a last word 
with. Janet and Keith, and a last kiss to Hilda. 

Then, amid a great waving of handkerchiefs 
and caps, and farewells many times repeated, 
the happy children set off for their summer 
holiday. 


CHAPTEE XXVL 

UNEXPECTED NEWS. 

“Up under the wood where tree- tips sway 
All green though by sky-shine tinted grey ; 

Above the soft mead where waters glide, 

Here narrow and swift, there slow and wide ; 

Up there is my house with rose- trimmed walls 
By land that up-slopes and land that falls.” 

— William Barnes. 

T he garden at “ Little Acorns ” was a most 
attractive place. From the vine-shaded 
veranda at the back of the house, one stepped 
out upon a broad terrace, then down a short 
flight of stone steps which ran its entire length. 
Three smoothly-gravelled walks extended in 
different directions from the foot of these steps. 
They were bordered with lilac, syringa, and 
rose bushes, and invited those who had come 
thus far to pursue still farther their pleasant 
windings. But a well-worn foot-path, turning 
off somewhat abruptly behind a great clump of 
honeysuckle, was suggestive of more direct 
leading, and was most often followed. 

Those who had once chosen it were sure to 
seek it ever afterward, for, with a few turns to 
this side and to that of trees whose great, 
gnarled roots spread out in every direction, it 
228 


229 


Unexpected Nev)s. 

lost itself in the thick, grassy carpeting of a 
little grove. Here hammocks were swung, and 
capacious wicker chairs stood about against 
a background of dense shrubbery. A large 
tigerskin heaped with pillows and half- covered 
with a silken couvre-pied enticed the drowsy 
soul to nap it with luxurious disregard of future 
aches and pains. Miss Janet’s little wicker 
work-table was usually piled with books, 
papers, and magazines, and her special low 
chair was always ready for its mistress. 

At one side of the grove ran a brook which 
became farther on, by the mingling of other 
waters, the river on which the children felt so 
much at home. Here it was only a quiet 
stream, clear and cold, which rippled cheerily 
along between its mossy banks and joined its 
song with those of the happy songsters who 
lived above it. 

Over all, blooming flowers and trailing vines, 
murmuring brook and shady dell, midnight 
silence and sound of joyous laughter, the great 
old forest trees, royal oaks, extended their 
mighty arms in protection and benediction. 
Puring long years they had kept watch and 
ward; generation after generation had passed 
away since first they looked abroad over the 
wide domain which Janet Sylvester’s ancestors 
once possessed, but never bad they sheltered a 


230 


Over at Little Acorns. 


gentler mistress than the one who now called 
them her own. 

She was the last of her name in America. 
Years before the town of Standish had been 
thought of, away back in colonial times, Sir 
Hubert Sylvester, after a quarrel with his 
younger brother, left England and sought a 
home in the new country to which so many 
others were flocking. Unlike the most of those 
who crossed the waters at that time, he was 
actuated neither by religious zeal nor love of 
gold. He simply wished to make for himself a 
home where he might forget the unhappy past 
and end his days in peace. His wife, the Lady 
Grace, two sons and one daughter, besides a 
band of thirty or more retainers, accompanied 
him to the New World. He lost no time upon 
reaching it, but at once looked about, and, 
pleased with its location, purchased from the 
Indians a large tract of land not many miles 
distant from one of the chief colonial centres. 
Here upon the topmost hill he made a clearing 
and built him a house. Money was not lack- 
ing, and much of the material and all of the 
furnishing came from England. The new home 
was so far as possible an exact copy of Sylvester 
Hall, and it was the most stately and preten- 
tious mansion in the colony. 

For a year Sir Hubert was happy ; then death 


Unexpected News, 231 

surprised him in the midst of his plans for 
forming a settlement among the hills. The 
Lady Grace survived him but a short time. 
The younger son and the daughter, no longer 
held by parental authority, returned to Eng- 
land, and the America estate fell into the hands 
of Hubert, the silent, dark-browed eldest son. 
He had inherited little of either the energy or 
the business talent of his father, and it was left 
for his son Walter to carry out the original 
idea of planting a village around the home- 
stead. 

Land was cleared and inducements offered 
which brought many to locate there. In less 
than five years a flourishing hamlet had sprung 
into life, bearing the good old English name of 
Standish, for Walter Sylvester’s wife was Mary 
Standish, and for love of her he gave her name 
to the infant village. 

Years passed. The old ancestral domain 
grew smaller acre by acre, as the needs of the 
town or necessities of its owners required, until 
only the extensive grounds immediately sur- 
rounding “The Acorns,” as Sir Hubert had 
christened his home, remained. The place was 
no longer owned by the Sylvesters. Janet’s 
grandfather was unfortunate, and the estate 
passed from his hands into those of Mark 
Standish, a remote connection of Mary Stand- 


232 


Over at Little Acorns. 


isli. It was a bitter humiliation to the proud 
old family that their inheritance must hence- 
forth belong to strangers. They moved at once 
to another State, and only Janet, then a little 
child, ever returned. By the time she was 
twenty years old she was left alone in the 
world. The success which had eluded her 
grandfather had attended her father’s efforts to 
retrieve the family fortunes. He died wealthy, 
and his last injunction to Janet was that she 
should buy back again the home of her fore- 
fathers. 

“You are young and rich, daughter. You 
will marry. If you would have me rest in my 
grave never leave ‘The Acorns.’ Teach your 
children to love it, and bid them never part 
with it.” 

When, however, she came to Standish, she 
found herself unable to obey him, for Mark 
Standish, son of the Mark who had bought 
“The Acorns” from her grandfather, was un- 
willing to part with it on any terms. 

Fifteen years had changed the thriving village 
into a thorough -going place of business. Great 
mineral wealth had been discovered all along 
the range of hills which had so charmed Sir 
Hubert. Capital had flowed in, enterprise and 
energy had gone hand in hand, and the results 
were surprising even to those who had from 


Unexpected News, 


233 


the first predicted a fair future for the pretty 
place. Mr. Standish was far toa deeply inter- 
ested there financially to be able to withdraw 
had he so desired, and he, moreover, loved 
both Standish and “The Acorns” too well to 
leave them. In a courteous, pleasant way he 
made all this clear to Janet during the few 
days which she spent as a guest in the home of 
her childhood. She would have preferred re- 
maining at the hotel in Standish, but she could 
not well refuse the hospitality so gracefully and 
cordially extended to her by Mr. Standish and 
his sister, Mrs. Eaton, the “Auntie Bell,” who 
had had the care of Louise since her mother’s 
death. Nor did she ever regret the brief visit, 
for it was the beginning of life-long friendships. 

Just on the edge of the Standish property 
was a well-situated tract of several acres which 
had never been cleared. It was a wild and 
picturesque spot, which captivated Janet’s 
fancy at once one evening when she, with Mr. 
Standish and Louise, then a little prattler of 
four, were strolling through the park. 

“ I’ll buy it,” she exclaimed, impulsively, “ and 
build a grey stone house, and call it ‘Little 
Acorns,’ and it shall be my home forever.” 

Mark Standish smiled, well pleased. He 
liked the gentle, sweet-natured girl, and he 
could not help feeling a twinge of conscience 


234 


Over at Little Acorns, 


now and then at keeping her out of her own, 
even though he had no mind to let her have the 
noble old estate, which must be kept intact for 
his own Louise. So he aided her and coun- 
selled her and insisted upon her staying as his 
welcome guest during the months which saw 
her words coming to fulfilment, and her lovely 
grey stone house slowly rising into a thing of 
beauty amoDg the fine old trees under which 
she and Keith were sitting one August morning 
ten years later. 

The mail had just been brought out from 
Standish, and they were both busy with their 
letters. Several were from the children, giving 
glowing accounts of the happy days which were 
so swiftly passing at the seashore. These were 
read aloud and greatly enjoyed. Keith then 
broke the seal of a thin envelope, bearing a 
foreign postmark. A low exclamation broke 
from his lips as he glanced at the heading, and 
then he was silent so long that Janet looked up 
at him more than once from the columns of the 
Standish Herald. There were several closely- 
written pages, and he read them twice before 
he leaned back in his low chair and said to his 
companion, “I have a letter from Sylvester 
Hall, Jeanie.” 

“ At last ! Oh ! Keith, that means that Hubert 
has ' 


235 


Unexpected News. 

‘‘ It means,” said Keith, interrupting her eager 
words, “that Hubert has gone to a world where 
he can make no more mistakes. Would you 
like to hear what his daughter has written me ? ” 

Without waiting for her reply, he unfolded 
the thin, rustling sheets, and began to read in 
a singularly clear and pleasant voice : 

“Sylvester Hall, July 21. 

“ Dear Cousin Keith : You will know who I 
am when I say that I am the daughter of 
Hubert Sylvester and Marjory Eothsay. My 
dear papa has told me that you used to know 
my mamma when she was a little girl. 

“ She died when I was ten years old, and 
papa died just two weeks ago. He was sick 
only a few days, and he gave me a message to 
you. I wrote it down as he said the words, 
and will copy it here. 

“ ‘ I know your sweet nature, Keith, and feel 
sure that you have long ago forgiven me that 
which I now see to have been an injustice to 
you and to Violet. I have been a hard man, 
and I go now to render my account. You 
will then be the master here — Sir Keith Sylves- 
ter — and you will know that there is a gentler 
side to even my nature when I tell you that 
there is no man living whom I would rather 
see in the old home of our ancestors. You 


236 


Over at Little Acorns. 


have inherited the finer qualities of our race, 
and I am sure that you will find true kinship 
with the dear child of whom you will be the 
guardian and nearest friend. She mingles the 
best of Marjory and Violet Kothsay with what 
is pure and noble in the Sylvester blood, and 
that is a rare legacy, Keith. 

“‘Is little Janet living? I have thought 
much of you three these last days, and it 
would please me much if you could make the 
old Hall your joint home. 

“‘You will find all papers, records, &c., in 
order. Heaven bless you, Keith, and reward 
you a hundred-fold for all you may have suf- 
fered at the hands of your cousin, 

“ ‘ Hubert Sylvester.’ 

“ Papa said that you would come soon after 
you receive this letter. I shall be glad to see 
you, for it is very lonely here now. Mrs. 
Barbara, the housekeeper, showed me a pic- 
ture of you taken in a sailor costume when you 
were a little boy and came over here for a 
visit. She says that you look like our great- 
grandfather, Hubert Sylvester. 

“I asked papa how old Janet Sylvester is 
now, but he could not tell me. I am fifteen. 
Is she as old as that? Couldn’t you bring her 
when you come ? I should dearly love to have 
a girl cousin of my own age. 


Unexpected News, 


237 


“I enclose in this for you a letter from 
papa’s solicitor, Mr. Stansbury Brown — he is 
the dearest old gentleman — which will tell 
you exactly how to come out from London. 
He was here to see me yesterday and I asked 
him to write it. 

“Please give my love to Cousin Janet, if you 
see her, and keep a share for yourself. 

“From your loving httle cousin, 

“Violet Eothsay Sylvester.” 

Janet listened with the most eager attention. 
When he finished she arose and came close in 
front of Keith. Very gracefully and gently 
she placed a hand on each side of his bearded 
face and, stooping, dropped a soft kiss on his 
square, white forehead. 

“ Let me be the first of our family to offer 
my loving allegiance to its head — Sir Keith 
Sylvester.” 

She spoke with a mixture of mischief and 
earnestness charming to see, but the look she 
gave him from her beautiful grey eyes was 
wholly of love. 

Keith fiushed like a girl and sprang to his 
feet. He raised his head reverently as he said, 
with Janet’s hand still clasped in his, “No, 
Jeanie; not Sir Keith Sylvester, by the grace 
of man; but Keith Sylvester Dennet, minister 
of Christ by the grace of God.” 


238 


Omr at Little Acorns. 


Then in his usual quiet manner he said, 
“Come, Jeanie, let us sit down and talk to- 
gether about this surprising news.” 

After a conversation of some length, during 
which Janet was regarding him more wistfully 
than she knew, he said, smiling in the half- 
quizzical way which sometimes so upset Louise, 
“I did not suspect you of being so ambitious, 
Jeanie.” 

She laughed softly, but she blushed a little, 
too. 

“It is not ambition precisely, Keith,” she 
replied. “I suppose it must be the old family 
clannishness and pride suddenly sprung to life 
in my breast ; but I should dearly love to see 
you in the old home as its master. You have 
every quality for making such a grand one.” 

“I should have were I possessed of each 
virtue with which your loving thought invests 
me, Jeanie,” Keith answered, “and I know 
well that it would be no mean ambition to fill 
such a position as it should be filled. Once it 
might have tempted me ; I can see great oppor- 
tunities for work for the Master there as well as 
here ; but I have cast in my lot with these dear 
people to whom I have been called so unmis- 
takably, and nothing this world has to offer can 
make me wish to leave them. And yet I, too, 
Jeanie, have a strain of the stiff old Sylvester 


Unexpected News, 


239 


pride of family. You would be surprised if you 
knew how often I have to fight down the feel- 
ing that Mark Standish is an interloper, and 
that you and I should be living up there in the 
house of oar ancestor, and he here at ‘Little 
Acorns.’” 

J anet laughed merrily. 

“Have a care, sir, how you oust me from my 
home-nest, even to see me under the roof of 
our forefathers. I must confess to the same 
weakness, Keith, and yet I know that we would 
not make the change if it were in our power to 
do so. We can both truly say that our steps 
are ordered of the Lord, and ordered wisely. 
. . . But you are surely going to Violet, are 
you not?” she asked, presently. 

“Yes, I shall go at once if I can get Stewart 
to look after my people and the work on the 
chapel. I can be spared better now than a 
month hence, and that dear child needs to be 
looked after. I hope to be able to lease Syl- 
vester Hall, or possibly to sell it, and to invest 
her money on this side. If there were not so 
many needy souls and bodies in the world, I 
would keep the old place just to satisfy a love 
of the beautiful, which is another of our family 
legacies, Jeanie. But I cannot do that, of 
course, and we shall never care to live there as 
Hubert wished. It will be better for Violet to 


240 Over at Little Acorns. 

have her home with us, and the sooner the 
change is made the better.” 

“I shall be so happy to have her here, for 
jdie will seem like my little sister. Think how 
blessed I am. For so many years I was here 
alone, except for guests ; then you came, then 
Hilda, and now Violet. I’m afraid it will be 
hard for her to leave the only home she has 
known and come among strangers.” 

“Not when I show her your picture, Jeanie, 
and tell her of our happy group of children. 
But even if my powers of persuasion should 
fail Mac will be sure to succeed.” 

“Mac!” cried Janet, in surprise. “Shall 
you take Mac ? ” 

“ If his father will let him go. He is a boy 
after my own heart, Jeanie, and I shall have 
him with me on this last visit to my homeacre 
if I can.” 

“ How happy this will make him. But you’ll 
have to stay home yourself, Keith, to cojnfort 
Louise,” laughed Janet. 


CHAPTEK XXYII 


A SUDDEN DEPARTURE. 


“ How can I live without thee; how forego 
Thy sweet converse and love so sweetly joined.” 


— John Miltmi. 



OW lovely the beach is this morning!’* 


exclaimed Helen, as she and Louise 


came out from breakfast one morning a few 
days after Keith received his letter from Yiolet. 
“ It shines like silver in the sunlight, and there 
never was such blue sky and water before. 
Let us take a long walk before we go in 
bathing.” 

‘‘Oh, yes! As far as the wreck of the Styx, 
if the boys will go with us. I will run over 
and ask them.” 

She was off in a moment, skipping across 
the sand and coming into the dining-room of 
the Norton cottage just as Alec had risen from 
the table. She glanced around for Mac, but 
he had gone. 

“ Oh ! Alec, won’t you and the other boys 
take us to that wreck this mojcning? It is so 
clear and fine.” 

“Just the very morning for a two-mile walk,” 
answered Alec, heartily. “Drum everybody 
16 241 


242 


Over at Little Acorns. 


up and we will start right off. And say, 
Louise, get Auntie Bell to pack us up some 
cookies, or something, won’t you? We’ll all 
be as hungry as sandpipers by the time we get 
through exploring.” 

Louise laughed. 

“You certainly are some relation to Charlie 
Norton, to be thinking of luncheon before you 
are through breakfast.” 

But she ran back to her own cottage to find 
Auntie Bell, who soon had several small baskets 
snugly filled with cookies and other good things. 
These she gave to the boys as they were about 
to start. 

“You’ll find them more convenient than one 
large basket,” she explained, bidding them 
good-bye, and charging them to be back by 
noon. 

“Oh, long before that. Auntie,” said Mac, 
who, with Louise and Helen, led the party., 
Marcia followed close behind with Alec, and 
Charlie and Mark brought up the rear. Just 
as they had passed the last cottage and had 
stepped from the plank walk into the white sand, 
they heard some one calling, “ Mac! Mac! ” 

They all turned about and saw Mr. Standish 
standing on the porch, making a trumpet of 
his hands, and shouting, “Tell Mac to come 
back here a minute.” 


A Sudden Departure, 243 

‘‘Don’t wait for me, I can overtake you 
easily enough,” said Mac, as he started off on 
the full run. 

They walked slowly on, looking around every 
few minutes but seeing nothing of him. 

“ What do you suppose Uncle Mark is keep- 
ing Mac for? ” asked Charlie. 

“I haven’t an idea, Mr. Curiosity,” answered 
Helen, emphasizing the last word in a marked 
way. 

“Perhaps Uncle Ben is coming,” suggested 
Marcia, like the little peacemaker she often 
was between them. “ I thought I saw a tele- 
gram in grandpa’s hand when I came through 
the hall.” 

“Then he won’t come back at all,” said 
Louise, her face clouding with disappointment. 

“Oh, well, we’ll have just as good a time,” 
Alec declared, cheerfully. “We’re coming to 
see the wreck, and not Mac Caldwell. We can 
see him any time.” 

This very matter-of-fact and truthful state- 
ment was so indisputable that Louise felt 
rather ashamed, and was glad she had not 
spoken her wish that the walk might be post- 
poned. 

When they had gone half a mile or more, 
Charlie’s curiosity became so strong as to affect 
one of his feet in a strange way. After limp- 


244 


Over at Little Acorns, 


ing along for some distance, he sat down on 
the sand, declaring that he could go no further. 

“I’ll have to run back and get another 
pair of shoes,” he said, unbuttoning those he 
had on. His companions exchanged amused 
glances. 

“Well, hurry up, and be sure to bring Mac 
back with you,” replied Alec, good-naturedly, 
while Mark, with a solemn face, chanted : 

Seven little cousins, off to see the Styx ; 

One was called back and then there were six ; 

Six little cousins going to have a dive ; 

One fell lame and then there were five ; 

Five little cousins walking on the shore; 

One 

But by this time Charlie was a flying speck 
far up the beach, and the poem was never 
finished. 

“It is a shame, Alec, to indulge Charlie as 
you do,” said Helen, as they went slowly on. 

“ Oh, don’t you worry about Charlie, Helen. 
He will come out all right,” Alec responded, 
giving Louise a comical glance, “ he’s a boy.” 

He sprang forward just in time to escape 
the hand Helen was bringing close to his ear 
in pretended indignation, and the two went 
racing over the sand, followed by the others. 
The fresh, clear air rang with their laughter, 
and when, in a few minutes, they caught sight 


A Sudden Departure. 245 

of the wreck, their cheeks were crimson and 
their eyes bright from the vigorous exercise. 

The Styx was a good-sized schooner which 
had been driven up on the beach during a 
furious storm the previous spring. It lay on 
one side, a pitiful sight, with portions of its 
stout timbers already half-buried in the sand. 
The children went around it and over it, so far 
as they could, and finally sat down in the lee 
of a sand dune near by to eat the lunch, for 
which they had keen appetites. 

“ What a queer name for a boat ! ” said Helen, 
spelling out the large white letters across the 
stern. “ I wonder what it means ? ” 

“Why, it is one of the rivers that separate 
this earth from Hades, and Charon is the boat- 
man who ferries the people’s souls across,” an- 
swered Marcia. 

Helen looked down on her small cousin with 
a good deal of surprise. 

“How did you find out about that, Marcia ? ” 
she inquired, curiously. 

“I read it in that big Classical Dictionary 
in Auntie Jean’s library last spring, when we 
were looking up things for Mac’s essay. Don’t 
you remember, Louise ? ” 

“You certainly are a smart little thing, 
Marcia,” continued Helen, regarding her with 
an expression compounded of admiration and 


246 Over at Little Acorns. 

envy. ‘‘I don’t even know where Haydis, or 
whatever you call that city, is.” 

Marcia broke into a merry laugh. 

“ I beg your pardon, Helen,” she said, check- 
ing it at once, “ I don’t mean to be rude, but 
that sounded so funny. Hades isn’t a city at 
all, but a place where people go w^hen they are 
dead, and Charon takes them over the Styx 
and the other rivers in his little boat.” 

“How' queer!” said Helen, after a puzzled 
silence. “ Do you believe that, Alec ? 

“Of course not, Helen, but the old-timers 
did. You’d better read up on mythology 
when you get back to school. And, in the 
meantime, Louise, I’ll take another cookie, if 
you please.” 

Helen did not ask any more questions, and 
the cookies were passed around twice before 
Charlie was seen tearing down the beach 
alone. 

“Something has happened, sure enough, 
girls, to bring Buster scudding along in that 
fashion,” said Alec, springing to his feet. 
“ Let’s go to meet him.” 

They darted away like a flock of birds and 
soon met Charlie, flushed and blown, and 
speechless. 

“ Anybody dead ? ” asked Alec. 

Charlie shook his head. 


A Sudden Departure. 247 

“Then sit down and get your wind, old 
fellow.” 

“ They all sat down on the sand around him 
and waited with varying degrees of patience 
for news of Mac. It came at last, and their 
eyes grew round with wonder as they listened 
to the marvellous tale. 

“ Mac’s gone to Europe with Mr. Keith — no, 
he’s not Mr. Keith ' any more, but Lord Some- 
body, and he’s going to live in a castle, and 
Mac’s going to live with him, and I guess 
likely he’ll marry Miss Violet, because her 
father died last week, and Mac said to tell you 
all good-bye, for Uncle Ben telegraphed him 
to take the first train and meet him in New 
York, and he hadn’t time to come back and 
see you, and Uncle Mark had a letter from 
Mr. — no. Lord Keith, and— that’s all! ” 

This sudden and unexpected ending brought 
them all down to earth again with such a shock 
that they, too, were speechless, and a dead 
silence succeeded to Charlie’s voluble an- 
nouncement. 

Louise looked off across the sparkling waters 
as though they had already separated her from 
the two friends she so dearly loved. She could 
hardly believe the strange news the children 
were discussing with the greatest excitement 
as they walked rapidly back to the cottages. 


248 


Over at Little Acorns. 


Mr. Keith a lord, and gone to Europe to live ! 
The very sky seemed to be falling about her 
ears as she thought of it. What would become 
of the mission? What would Auntie Jean 
do ? How could they get along without ever 
seeing Mr. Keith and — Mac! A quick pain 
shot through her heavy heart. Oh ! how could 
Mac have gone without even one good-bye 
word ? And was he, too, never coming back ? 
Would he always live over there where Yiolet 
was ? She felt again the terrible rush of jealous 
anger which she had not known since the first 
morning she saw Mr. Keith. It sprang up in 
her breast with a force which she could not 
control. With white cheeks and tightly-com- 
pressed lips she hurried on before the rest. 
One thought only was clear to her : “ Sister 
will know ! Sister will tell me 1 ” 

“Sister” did, indeed, suspect the effect of 
Charlie’s undoubtedly distorted message, and 
stood on the porch waiting for the little figure 
which fiew to her sheltering embrace, crying 
piteously: “Oh! sister, sister, will they never 
come back ? ” 

Marcia kissed the quivering lips. 

“Yes, darling; they will be at Standish al- 
most as soon as we are.” 

“But Charlie said — ” began Louise, bewil- 
dered. 


A Sudden Departure. 249 

‘‘Never mind what Charlie said, dear. Come 
in now, and you shall read Mr. Keith’s letter 
yourself.” 

But first she was taken to Marcia’s room, 
where her hot cheeks and burning eyes were 
bathed, and a cool muslin wrapper was substi- 
tuted for her blue-fiannel beach-dress. Then, 
while she lay, all sweet and fresh and comfort- 
able, upon Marcia's lounge, and felt the deli- 
cious sea-breeze blowing gently in through the 
half-turned blinds, she read what Keith had 
written of his sudden call to England. There 
was a special message to her, telhng her some- 
thing of Sylvester Hall, and bespeaking her 
love in advance for the “little English Yiolet” 
he should bring home with him. 

Louise folded the letter and replaced it in 
the envelope. She handed it to Marcia, who 
sat sewing near by, and turned her face away 
from the window. 

“ I hate the very sight of the water,” she said 
to herself, “ and I shall never, never love her ! 
She has no right to take Mr. Keith and Mac 
both away, and to spoil my lovely summer! 
And then to come and be always there with 
Auntie Jean — I just can’t bear to think of it!” 

“Are you not glad, Louise,” said Marcia, 
“that Violet Sylvester is going to have such a 
lovely home as Auntie Jean’s, now that her 


250 


Over at Little Acorns. 


own papa and mamma are dead. She has had 
such a lonely childhood that I am sure she will 
be very happy with our merry crew. Don’t 
you think so ? ” 

A very faint “Yes, sister,” was all the reply 
Louise could manage to make. 

“Would you not like to write a letter to Vio- 
let, giving her a little description of the boys 
and girls at ‘ The Acorns,’ and telling her how 
welcome she will be among them? I am sure 
it will make her happy, besides being a delicate 
compliment to Mr. Keith. 

No answer was made to this, and Marcia 
sewed on in silence. She knew what a furious 
tempest was raging in her young sister’s heart, 
for she had herself been just such a sensitive, 
loving, impetuous child, lavishing the whole 
wealth of her affections upon those dear to her, 
and passionately demanding the whole of theirs 
in return. She had been schooled to self-con- 
trol and unselfishness by such suffering as she 
could not bear even to think of in connection 
with Louise. Many glances of tender sympa- 
thy were given to the silent figure on the lounge. 
How would the struggle end? Would the 
Christ-love, which she knew was taking root 
in the girl’s heart, help her through, or would 
self, with its unreasonable reasoning, be the 
victor? 


A Sadden Departure, 


251 


One by one the minutes were ticked off by 
the busy little clock on the mantel, until half 
an hour had passed. Then Louise crept into 
Marcia’s arms. 

“I’ve tried and tried, sister,” she sobbed, 
“and I can’t be willing to have her come! And 
one minute I do truly want Mr. Keith and Mac 
to have a lovely time, and I am as glad as can 
be that they have gone ; and the next minute a 
dreadful lump comes into my throat, and I feel 
so — so — I can’t tell you, but just as wicked as 
can be ! What makes me all so mixed up and 
miserable, sister? I am sorry for Violet, and 
I know she must be nice if she is Mr. Keith’s 
cousin and Auntie Jean’s; but when I think of 
her being at ‘Little Acorns’ all the time, I’d 
like to — ” The brown eyes flashed, and a small 
fist clenched itself fiercely in Marcia’s neck. 

“What makes it so hard for you to feel 
happy over their going away and Violet’s com- 
ing, Louise ? ” asked Marcia. 

A long silence followed this question, but 
at length Louise said: “Because — because— I 
suppose because I can’t be with them, and be- 
cause I don’t want anybody in my place at 
‘Little Acorns.’ That sounds horrid, doesn’t 
it? But it is just the truth, sister.” 

“ I’m afraid that it is, my dear little girl,” an- 
swered Marcia, sadly. “And are you trying in 


252 


Over at Little Acorns. 


the right way, Louise, to get rid of all this 
selfishness? For that is what makes you so 
wretched. Are you not thinking more of the 
happiness of Louise Standish than of Mr. 
Keith, or Mac Caldwell, or Violet Sylvester? 
Are you sincerely asking for the only help 
which can give us control over our selfish de- 
sires and enable us to truly do as we would be 
done by? Have you remembered to ask the 
dear Saviour to help you to do as he would do 
and to feel as he would feel?” 

Slowly the rigid muscles relaxed ; more qui- 
etly came the quick- drawn breaths ; gentler 
thoughts succeeded to those which had made 
Louise so unhappy. 

Another silence, during which both sisters 
prayed, and at the end of which they knelt 
down together, while Marcia gave utterance to 
the penitence and the petitions of Louise’s 
heart in a few earnest, beautiful words, never 
forgotten by the now light-hearted girl. 

She could read Mr. Keith’s letter again with 
very different feelings ; and when, presently, 
Helen and Marcia came in to find her, they all 
talked over the sudden departure and the de- 
lightful trip Mac was about to take 

“Uncle Ben’s telegram should have been re- 
ceived last night,” said Marcia. “ Coming this 
morning, it left Mac only time enough to hastily 


253 


A Sudden Departure. 

pack a small valise, and catch the train. I 
know he feels as sorry to have missed saying 
good-bye to you as you do to have not seen 
him.” 

The truth of this was clearly proven the next 
morning, when Louise was made happy by a 
letter from him : 

*^‘Deae Louise : In about two minutes we’re 
going to leave this hotel and go down to the 
steamer. She sails at four o’clock in the morn- 
ing, so we have to go aboard to-night. It is a 
shame that I had to rush off in such a hurry, 
but papa’s telegram was delayed somewhere. 
Isn’t it just glorious that I’m going, and with 
Mr. Keith, too? I only wish you were with us. 
I’ll write on the way over, and mail at Queens- 
town. Give lots of good-byes all around from 
Mr. Keith and your loving Mac. 

Denis, August 13.” 


CHAPTEE XXYIIL 


TIDINGS FROM AFAR. 

“ As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is good news from 
a far country .” — Proverbs xxv. 25. 

AC’S letter from Queenstown was watched 



1 V I for with the greatest eagerness by all his 
cousins. It arrived one morning about two 
weeks from the time of his departure, and both 
families assembled on the veranda of the 
Standish cottage to hear it. It was addressed 
to Louise, but after a hasty glance down the 
closely-written pages she begged Marcia to 
read it aloud. 

“On Board S. S. Arundel, August 14. 

“ Dear Louise : It is only eleven o’clock, but 
it seems as though we had been at sea a week 
or two. This is one of the finest ships afioat, 
our captain says, and I can’t see how one 
could well be finer. Everything is as neat as a 
pin and kept in the most perfect order. There 
is a great crowd aboard, and I have seen two 
or three boys I know. One of them is Howard 
St. J ohn, Helen’s friend. He’s more of a dude 
than ever. 


254 


255 


Tidings from Afar. 

“The captain is an old friend of Mr. Keith’s 
father; so we sit at his table, and are treated 
royally, I assure you. We have been over the 
ship, the decks, T mean, this morning, and the 
captain is going to send some one through the 
steerage and the ‘lower regions’ with us this 
afternoon. It is like a great town when you 
look from one end of the ship to the other. I 
can’t begin to describe it to you. Indeed, I’m 
afraid I shall not be able to write much of a 
letter for my thoughts are all in a jumble with 
so many new and fascinating things to think of. 

“The captain asked us to come up on the 
bridge with him early this morning. Uncle 
Mark will tell you what the bridge is. I tell 
you, Louise, it seemed to me the grandest thing 
in the world to stand away up there and to feel 
the enormous engines throbbing under your 
feet, and to know that you have control of the 
whole enormous ship. I felt prouder of being 
a man than I ever did before. 

“There goes the luncheon bell. There’s one 
thing about life on an ocean steamer that would 
please Charlie Norton. We have five splendid 
meals a day — regular meals — and you can order 
as many more as you like. I have done mine 
full justice so far, and don’t mean to pay any 
tribute to old Neptune without a good resolute 
protest. 


256 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“4 P. M. 

*‘Mr. Keith is writing to Auntie Jean, and 
I’ll add something to this scrappy epistle. We 
are spanking along before a stiff breeze, and 
although we are making twenty knots an hour 
we are as steady as a clock. We’ve been down 
seeing the engines since dinner. It is beauti- 
ful to watch their noiseless, exact movements. 
They seem almost human, with every part so 
precisely fitted to every other and all working 
in such perfect harmony. But I do feel sorry 
for those coal-heavers. It is a thousand times 
hotter than the hottest oven, or it appeared so 
to me at least, way down there where they are. 
They are stripped to the waist and are dripping- 
wet all the time. Only think what a life for 
the poor fellows. 

“There are not many steerage passengers 
this trip. Their quarters are called comfort- 
able, and everything looked quite clean, but I 
was glad to get up into fresh air and to take a 
peep into our tidy little outside state-room. 

“I have made the acquaintance of a nice 
boy. His father is a naval officer, and has just 
been ordered to Genoa, so Foster (his name is 
Foster Stevens) is going out to spend a few 
Aveeks with him there. He is alone, and we 
have rather taken him under our Aving, or 
wings, should I say? I have told him about 


Tidings fro7n Afar, 


257 


my cousins, and he says he will try to get us 
invitations to the ball at Annapolis next sum- 
mer. That will be fine, won’t it, Helen? 
Poster is in the naval academy at Annapolis, 
and has a special leave of absence for this visit 
to his father. 

‘‘ Supper is ready now, and I am ready for it. 
You’ve no idea what a rousing appetite the 
keen salt air gives one. 


“ August 15, 6 a. m. 

“We are nearly an hour ahead of you in 
time now; so I suppose you are all snoozing 
away in your beds. I turned out earier than 
usual this morning, and have been up on deck 
looking at the sun rise. I never saw so many 
lovely colors in the sky, and when the sun 
came up, clear as a bell, right out of the water, 
it was fine. The waves are running quite high, 
and our noble ship rides them like a bird. 

“You’d be surprised to know what a busy 
place this is. When we first came aboard 1 
wondered what in the world we should do for a 
whole week out of sight of land; but now I 
can’t even get time to read one of the books 
Mr. Keith brought along. This morning Foster 
and I are going to learn to tie knots in rope. 
There is an old sailor down in the steerage who 
has been all over the world, and is now on his 
17 


258 Over at Little Acorns, 

way to visit his people in England. He knows 
any quantity of interesting things, and is as 
good-natured as possible about telling them to 
us. You know there are ever so many kinds of 
knots that sailors make, and he will teach us 
how to tie them. Mr. Keith has promised to 
time us to see who will make the most the 
soonest. That sentence sounds queer, doesn’t 
it ? Suppose you correct it. 

‘‘August 17, 6 a. m. 

“Foster won in the rope contest by two knots, 
but I don’t feel so very badly beaten, because 
he has sailor blood in his veins and I am only 
a landlubber ! 

“If you can find a map anywhere around, 
and will measure one inch northeast from the 
lower point of Newfoundland, you will see just 
about where we are at this moment. We are 
making a fine run the captain says. This is 
another glorious morning. There isn’t a sail in 
sight, nothing but the ocean and the sky and 
our splendid ship. Mr. Keith has just come on 
deck, and sends his love to each one of the dear 
friends we’ve left behind us. 

“August 18, 5 p. m. 

“ This has been a Sunday which I shall never 
forget, Louise. 


259 


Tidings from Afar. 

“ Soon after breakfast Mr. Keith held service 
in the steerage. He spoke to the people from 
these verses in the thirty -third Psalm : 

‘‘ ‘ By the word of the Lord were the heavens 
made ; and all the host of them by the breath 
of his mouth. 

“ ‘ He gathereth the waters of the sea together 
as an heap : he layeth up the depth in store% 
houses. 

“‘Let all the earth fear the Lord: let all the 
inhabitants of the world stand in awe of him.’ 

“And also this verse from the thirty -fourth 
Psalm : 

“‘The angel of the Lord encampeth round 
about them that fear him and delivereth them.’ 

“You should have seen how eagerly they 
listened to his words of admonition and com- 
fort, and how lovely his face was as he spoke. 
It fairly glowed with love and sympathy for 
them all, until it seemed as if he must take each 
one in his arms and carry them to the feet of 
the Saviour whether they were willing or not. 
I thought of what I had written to you about 
its being such a grand thing to command a 
great ship like this, but I feel now that it is a 
thousand times grander to be a man like Mr. 
Keith. 

“At eleven o’clock the beautiful service of 
the Church of England was read in the saloon. 


260 


Over at Little Acorns. 


and a good sermon preached by a New York 
rector who happened to be on board. But the 
best part of the whole day was this afternoon 
when Mr. Keith and I took our steamer chairs 
far out on the bow, and had a long, quiet talk. 
The decks were nearly deserted, and we were 
almost alone with only the waves sparkling 
below us, and the clear, blue sky over our 
heads. I cannot write about it even to you, 
Louise, but I have resolved to come out before 
the world, when we are all at Standish again, 
and to wear openly the name of the Master I 
am trying to serve. I wish every one of you 
would make the same decision. 

“August 19, Noon. 

“ We have just taken our bearings, and I am 
keeping a ‘log,’ which you shall see when I 
come home. It is great fun. I suppose this is 
our last day on the old ocean, for we are nearing 
Queenstown, and I must get this queer sort of 
letter ready for mailing there. We shall go 
directly to London from Liverpool and out to 
Sylvester Hall by the first train, leaving our 
sight-seeing until our return. I mustn’t forget 
to tell you that we are both well, and that 
neither of us lost a meal all the way over, of 
which we feel very proud. To be sure we had 
no stormy weather, but there were some pretty 


261 


Tidings from Afar, 

big waves one day, and nearly everybody sought 
the seclusion of their state-rooms. It has been 
an uneventful voyage, the captain says, for we 
have seen no icebergs, nor whales, nor met with 
any accident or adventure, but have simply 
steamed steadily along through six of the hap- 
piest days that one passenger, at least, has ever 
known. 

“You must, please, give my love to the whole 
crowd, and do send a package of letters to read 
on the ship coming home. Mr. Keith says we 
must sail by the 4th of September at the latest. 

“It looks good to see some land again, even 
if it isn’t so very near. Good-bye now. 

“ Affectionately, 

“McDonald Caldwell.” 

“Inns of Court Hotel, London, August 21. 

“How are you this morning, my beloved old 
Alexander the Great? How I wish you were 
here with me looking out of this window on to 
London — historic old London — where so many 
celebrated men have walked these very streets, 
and in which so many notable events have 
•taken place. 

“I wrote Louise from the steamer that we 
should not stop over here on our way out to 
Sylvester Hall, but when Mr. Keith saw Mr. 
Stansbury Brown yesterday he found that he 


262 


Over at Little Acorns. 


is obliged to remain in town for a day or two 
to attend to some business matters. Foster 
Stevens is staying over until the first of the 
week, waiting for a party of friends with whom 
he is to travel to Genoa to come down from 
, Scotland, so Mr. Keith has allowed us to poke 
about by ourselves. It is fine fun, I assure 
you, and more interesting than I could tell you 
in ten years’ steady talk. 

“ For two hours yesterday we rode all over 
old London, ‘the city,’ on the top of omnibuses, 
and we thought we had learned the ‘ lay of the 
land’ so well that we could find our way any- 
where ; but we lost our bearings this morning 
before we had been out of the hotel ten min- 
utes. It is such an immense place, Alec. I 
used to think a man wasn’t much larger than a 
rabbit down town in New York; he isn’t a bit 
more than the smallest sort of grasshopper in a 
London crowd. 

“Oliver Goldsmith’s grave is a very short 
distance from here. Foster and I were there 
this morning, and we saw the site of the old 
Temple Bar and some of the coffee houses 
we’ve read of, and the outside of the British 
Museum, and lots of other places I haven’t 
time to write of now. This afternoon Mr. Keith 
is going to take us to the Tower of London, as 
it happens to be the day it is open for visitors. 


263 


Tidings from Afar. 

“I cannot close this short letter without tell- 
ing you that we had a fine ride across England 
from Liverpool. The whole country is like one 
big garden. We passed through Kugby about 
half-past three in the afternoon, and I am sure 
I saw Tom Brown walking across a field. I 
fairly ached to get out of the train and spend 
an hour or two tracing out his favorite haunts ; 
but, of course, I couldn’t do it. 

“Here comes Mr. Keith, who says that we 
shall leave London early to-morrow morning. 
So good-bye. Mac.” 


CHAPTEE XXIX. 


ENGLISH VIOLET. 

“ . . . Take of my violets. I found them where 
The liquid South stole o’er them, on a bank 
That leaned to running water. There’s to me 
A daintiness about these early flowers 
That touches me like poetry. They blow 
With such a simple loveliness among 
The common herbs of pasture and breathe out 
Their lives so unobtrusively, like hearts 
Whose beatings are too gentle for the world. 

I love to go in the capricious days 
Of April and hunt violets, when the rain 
Is in the blue cups trembling and they nod 
So gracefully to the kisses of the wind.” 

— Nathaniel Parker Willis. 

I )LEASE bring me a few more of these 
dark red roses, Hugh, and another 
bunch of the pink ones.” 

Violet Sylvester was sitting on the wide, 
stone porch which extended across the front of 
Sylvester Hall, surrounded by a mass of roses 
of many varieties. She was busily engaged 
arranging them in great bowls and vases, but 
she glanced up just in time to see the old 
gardener shake his head dubiously. 

“ Oh, now, Hugh, you musn’t do that,” she 
cried, in coaxing tones, “no matter if you 

264 


An English Yiolet, 265 

do cut every one; there’ll be plenty out to- 
morrow.” 

“ That’s true enough, Miss Yiolet; but there’s 
no use wasting the beauties. Wherever will 
you put them all ? ” 

‘‘Everywhere,” replied Violet, intent upon 
the adjustment of a globe of creamy loveliness. 

“That’s just the truth of the matter, Hugh,” 
said Mrs. Barbara, who, in snowy cap and 
apron, appeared at that moment in the door- 
way. “The whole house is full of flowers 
now, and it looks as sweet as it can, too. 
Now, Miss Violet, dear, do hurry with those 
roses, for it’s time for Master Keith this very 
minute, and all the trash to clear away.” 

“There won’t be any trash, Barbara,” said 
Violet, burying her face in an immense bunch 
of Marshal Neils. “ Oh! aren’t roses the very 
dearest things that ever were made? Do, 
please, Hugh, get me some more. I ” 

The roll of wheels was heard on the drive- 
way, and almost at the same instant Keith was 
seen standing in the open carriage, hat in 
hand, looking eagerly at the picture before 
him. It was well worth seeing. 

There was the rambling old house, with its 
walls and towers and gables covered with dark, 
rich ivy of many generations’ growth ; the ex- 
quisitely-kept lawn stretching its velvet-like 


266 


Over at Little Acorns. 


greenness in every direction; the beautiful old 
trees, royal representatives of the primeval 
forests which had once been monarchs of all 
they surveyed ; the beaming, familiar face of 
Mrs. Barbara and the rugged, wrinkled one of 
old Hugh, who stood, cap in hand, with a 
smile of welcome for the new master : and in 
the centre of all a slight girlish figure, clad in 
deep mourning and surrounded by a wealth of 
beauty and fragrance as winsome as her own 
bright face. 

A pair of sweet, wistful eyes were lifted shyly 
beneath the golden locks which the breeze 
blew lightly across Violet’s forehead as she 
stepped forward to greet Keith. 

“I am so glad to see you. Cousin Keith,” 
she said, placing her hands in his. 
y Eor an instant it seemed to him as though 
the years had rolled back and that he was 
looking down upon another Violet, so like were 
these fair features to those others he had loved. 
He stooped and kissed the smooth, round cheek. 

“And I am right heartily glad to see you, 
little girl. I am only sorry that I could not 
have come sooner to spare you these lonely 
days. Violet, let me introduce to you Mac- 
Donald Caldwell, a very dear friend of Cousin 
Janet’s and of mine. Mac, this is our cousin, 
Violet Sylvester.” 


An English Yiolet. 267 

Mac felt her warm little hand lying for a 
second in his and heard a few words of wel- 
come, but his thoughts were in a whirl, and he 
was glad when the other greetings were over 
and Mrs. Barbara had led him away to a large, 
pleasant room next to Keith’s. He sat down 
and looked out into the tree-tops. Could it be 
that only ten days before he had been at the 
seashore with Louise and Alec and the others? 
Was it really such a short while ago that Mr. 
Keith’s letter and his father’s telegram had 
come, filling each hour since to the very brim 
with pleasure and delight? And here, in this 
lovely place, the climax had been reached when 
he looked into the sweetest face he had ever 
seen. 

He had not stirred when Keith tapped on 
his door half an hour later. 

“ What ! Not ready for luncheon ! Did you 
uot hear the bell? ” 

Mac sprang up in dismay. Keith’s familiar 
voice had dispelled the clouds among which he 
had been soaring, •and he came back to the 
realities of life, laughing in a rather shame- 
faced way. 

“I’ve been trying to decide whether I am 
Mac Caldwell or some one else,” he said, as he 
pulled off his coat and opened his satchel. 
“ I’m afraid I’m not quite sure yet.” 


268 


Over at Little Acorns, 


Keith made no reply. He was going about 
the room looking at all the pictures and at 
each piece of furniture, as though they were 
old friends. Then he stood before one window 
after another, gazing out at the exquisite land- 
scape. 

‘‘Mac,” he said, at length, “this was my 
room once when I came over from America to 
pay a visit to my cousin Hubert. I was just 
about your age; no, a trifle older, for I was 
past seventeen. I stayed a year, a perfectly 
happy year, Mac, one that I love to think of 
and which I shall always remember with de- 
light. Nothing is changed in the room, and 
I am glad Mrs. Barbara has put you in here. 
I hope that all your memories of it will be 
happy ones, too, my dear boy.” 

He laid his hands on Mac’s shoulders as he 
spoke, and looked with affectionate earnest- 
ness into the bright, boyish face now fully on 
a level with his own. Something in his man- 
ner and the tone of his voice touched the lad’s 
heart. 

“Wouldn’t you rather be in here now, Mr. 
Keith?” he asked, eagerly, “I’d be so glad to 
change, if you would^ ” 

“No, Mac. Thank you,” Keith replied, and 
Mac thought he saw a shadow cross the face 
of his beloved friend. “It is pleasant to think 


An English Violet. 


269 


of you as a successor to the boy Keith. Come, 
are you ready to go down?” 

The next few days were very busy ones for 
Mr. Keith and Mr. Stansbury Brown and very 
happy ones for Violet and Mac. A desirable 
tenant had been found for Sylvester Hall, who 
desired to take possession immediately upon 
their leaving, and there was a great deal to be 
done in the way of packing-up and forwarding 
to America such things as it was desirable for 
Violet to keep, and in preparing the house for 
its new oocupants, besides attending to the 
necessary business formalities. Mrs. Barbara, 
with the corps of under-servants, worked early 
and late, for Keith was anxious to start for 
home at the earliest possible moment. 

While the elder members of the household 
were thus closely occupied, the two children, 
as old Hugh called them, were free to go and 
come as they liked. Mac was never tired of 
roaming over the immense old house and list- 
ening to Violet’s vivid narration of endless 
tales of romance and chivalry connected with 
its long-dead-and-gone lords and ladies. But 
she preferred to wander over the broad acres 
which stretched their luxuriant greensward 
and their shadowy woodlands so invitingly in 
every direction. 

“ How can you like these musty old rooms so 


270 


Over at Little Acorns. 


well?” she would ask. “All these people are 
dead ages ago. Why do you care about them? 
Come, go out with me under the trees, and I 
will show you beautiful living things, and we 
will read together what the poets have written 
about the lovely flowers and the birds and the 
leaves.” 

And Mac would turn away from the dim 
portraits, whose dusky eyes and haughtily- 
curving lips fascinated him so irresistibly, and 
go out into the sunshine and the common- 
placeness of the every-day world with Violet, 
not because he liked these better, but because 
it was hard to deny her wish. 

One morning she took him to a beautiful, 
quiet spot, a little churchyard, in the centre of 
which was a small, ivy-covered chapel. 

“This used to be the family chapel,” she 
said, “ but it has long been disused. All of us 
are buried here, though.” 

She stopped beside a newly-made grave, 
strewn with flowers. She did not say that her 
father rested there, but Mac understood, and 
clasped her hand in mute sympathy. There 
was yet no inscription of his name on the tall, 
white shaft which bore that of his wife : 

“Mae JOEY Roth 8 AY Sylvestee. 

Beloved Wife of 
Hubeet Sylvestee, 

Died May 4, 18 — .” 


An English Violet. 271 

Presently Violet led the way, stepping rever- 
ently about the graves, toward one covered 
with long sprays of ivy and myrtle. At its 
head was a slender white stone bearing the 
single word, 

“ Violet.” 

“She was my sweet Aunt Violet,” said the 
girl, softly. “ I will show you a beautiful pic- 
ture of her that I have in a locket. Her por- 
trait, too, hangs in mamma’s room. She was 
only eighteen year old when she died. Mrs. 
Barbara told me once that p^pa would not let 
her marry some one she loved. She would not 
tell me who it was, but I think, from something 
papa asked me to write to Cousin Keith, just 
before he died, that he is — ” 

She stopped suddenly, and pulled Mac be- 
hind some low shrubbery, but not before he, 
too, had seen Mr. Keith draw near across 
the thick grass and kneel beside the grave. 
Two pair of young eyes looked at each other 
with startled consciousness of the great mys- 
teries yet unknown to them ; two young hearts 
beat quickly as, hand in hand, Violet and Mac 
slipped silently away from the hush and the 
peace so typical of the “rest that remain- 
eth,” out into the brightness and the cheer 
of a living world. They kept the secret which 
they had unwittingly discovered, not for years 


272 


Over at Little Acorns. 


speaking of it even to each other; but its pos- 
session gave Mac a secret sympathy with the 
man he so deeply loved. He believed that he 
now knew something of what such a parting 
must be. A thousand hopes and aspirations 
were stirring vaguely in his breast. Boyhood 
and manhood had met, and slowly, but inevit- 
ably, one was to be lost in the other. 

The letter from Louise reached Violet in due 
time, and did much to counteract the grief she 
naturally felt at the breaking-up of her home. 
Mac w*as always ready to answer her innumer- 
able questions about “The Acorns” and “Little 
Acorns” and their respective households; and 
Keith found time, in the midst of all his busy 
hours, to become acquainted with his new 
cousin, and to do many things for her happi- 
ness and comfort. 

He came out on the front terrace one day 
just as the two “children” came galloping up 
the avenue. Violet was on her cream- white 
pony, “ Beauty,” and Mac rode a spirited 
chestnut, whose glossy coat shone like satin. 

“Oh! we’ve had such a lovely ride. Cousin 
Keith. We went over to ‘Briarly’ to bid Mrs. 
Murray good-bye. You remember her, do you 
not ? That dear little old lady that you saw at 
church? She gave me this great bunch of 
mignonette. Nobody grows such fine mignon- 


All English Yiolet. 273 

ette as she does in the ‘ Briarly ’ gardens. 
Don’t you love mignonette, Cousin Keith? It 
is so dear and shy and sweet.” 

She reached over and broke a spray from 
the bunch which Mac carried, and fastened it 
in Keith’s coat. 

“There!” she said, sitting erect in the saddle 
again, “that looks well. It is a true little dar- 
ling, isn’t it? I hope Cousin Janet has quanti- 
ties in the lovely garden at ‘ Little Acorns ’ that 
Mac has been telling me of.” 

“ I am sure that I remember a large bed of it 
there, Yiolet. But are you not coming in now ? ” 

“Are we, Mac?” she asked, turning to her 
companion. “Didn’t you say we would have 
time for a race to the pond?” 

Before Mac could reply the sound of a b^ll 
was heard from the house. 

“Luncheon!” exclaimed Yiolet, incredulous. 
^‘Why! I had no idea it was so late.” 

She threw the reins over Beauty’s neck, and 
prepared to dismount. Keith, in the mean- 
time, was viewing the little horse somewhat 
critically. 

“How do you think Beauty would enjoy an 
ocean voyage, Yiolet?” he asked, looking up 
at her with a smile. 

He was surprised to see her eyes fill with 
tears and her happy face flush with an emotion 
18 


274 


Over at Little Acorns, 


she did not trj to conceal. It was a moment 
before she answered him: “Oh! Cousin Keith, 
if I only could take him 1 It has nearly broken 
my heart to think of leaving the dear fellow 
behind.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me, Yiolet?” asked 
Keith, reproachfully, holding her hands for a 
moment as she sprang to the ground. 

She broke away from him, and, putting both 
arms around Beauty’s neck, laid her rosy cheek 
against it in a way which told plainer than 
words how happy Keith had made her. 

“I didn’t know you could do everything,” 
she said, shyly. 

“You’ll learn some day that he can, just as 
the rest of us have,” laughed Mac, as he caught 
Beauty’s bridle and took the horses around to 
the stable. 

Violet’s face was radiant, but Keith’s was 
clouded, as they walked slowly across the broad 
terrace toward the house. At length he stopped. 

“You must not do that again, little girl,” he 
said, with gentle seriousness. 

“ Do what. Cousin Keith ? ” 

“ Bear alone any burden that I can help you 
carry,” was his quick response. “You would 
have asked your papa about taking Beauty 
with you, would you not, Violet?” 

“Yes, Cousin Keith,” she said, after a mo- 
ment’s hesitation, “but — ” 


An English Yiolet, 


275 


“I cannot expect that you will love me as 
you did your papa, Yiolet, of course ; but you 
are very dear to me, and I desire to make your 
life as happy as a girl’s life can possibly be. 
Will you not try to remember that I stand in 
your papa’s place now, so far as 1 can, and will 
you not come to me for whatever you wish just 
as freely as you went to him? Nothing will 
make me more truly happy than this, my dear 
child.” 

With a frank confidence which reminded 
him of Louise, she gave the required promise, 
and they entered the house. But Keith was 
not wholly at rest. He felt that he must have 
made a mistake somewhere, forgetting how 
short her acquaintance with him had been, and 
also forgetting that he saw constantly in her 
the Yiolet of his youthful love, to whom he 
could deny nothing. 

There should have been no need for me to 
say that to her,” he reflected, uneasily; ‘‘but 
she will soon be with Jeanie that pearl among 
women, who will always understand.” 


CHAPTEK XXX. 


HOMEWARD BOUND. 


“ On sunny noons, upon the deck’s smooth face, 
Link’d arm in arm, how pleasant here to pace I 
Or, o’er the stem reclining, watch below. 

The foaming wake, far widening as we go.” 


— Arthur Hugh Clough. 



IHE day came at length when all the great 


I packing-boxes and trunks had been sent 
away; when the favorite haunts had been 
sought out, and the portrait-galleries, where 
Mac loved to linger, had been visited for the 
last time ; when an affectionate leave had been 
taken of Mrs. Barbara and of old Hugh, who 
were to be pensioned and to go on a long visit 
to their relatives ; when Sylvester Hall, stately 
and beautiful in the morning light, had been 
lost to view, and the three friends were actu- 
ally on the train going down to London. They 
had been unable to get away as soon as Mr. 
Keith had hoped ; consequently, much to his 
regret, they were obliged to go directly to 
Liverpool. 

“We are more than a week behindhand now, 
Mac. I think it would not be right to stay a 
day longer than can be helped.” 


276 


Homeward Bound, 


277 


“Of course not,” replied Mac, promptly; but 
he could not avoid casting many longing glances 
over the great city as they drew near to it, and 
thinking of the places which he had wished to 
have the pleasure of showing to Violet. 

“Does Cousin Keith always do everything 
because he thinks it is right?” asked Violet of 
Mac, in a low tone. 

“ He is very apt to,” replied Mac, with a smile 
which she did not understand. 

“ Don’t you think it would be lovely to stay 
over for a few days in London ? ” she went on. 

Mac’s eyes sparkled. 

“Indeed, I do, Violet,” he assented, with 
nearty emphasis. 

“Then, won’t you ask him? Please, Mac, 
please.” 

The violet eyes besought him eloquently, the 
coaxing voice went straight to the boy’s heart, 
which beat quickly under this temptation. 

Keith, sitting just in front of them and over- 
hearing every quietly-spoken word, listened 
intently for Mac’s reply. It was not given at 
once. He was troubled to find words gentle 
enough for the refusal of Violet’s request and 
strong enough for loyalty to Mr. Keith. 

Finally he said, without so much as one 
glance at the lovely, wistful face beside him : 
“You would not ask me that, Violet, if you 


278 


Ove7' at Little Acorns. 


knew Mr. Keith better. He always knows just 
what is best and right. I, too, would dearly 
love to spend a week or a month in London 
with you and with him ; but there is work left 
at home — I haven’t told you about it yet — and 
Mr. Keith is needed there every day.” 

Violet heard this in silence, not at all con- 
vinced. She looked curiously at Mac, whose 
eyes were still resolutely turned away from her. 

“And do you do things because they are right, 
Mac, or because Cousin Keith says so ? ” 

He flushed crimson as he heard this search- 
ing question, but he answered it without hesi- 
tation. 

“I am trying to do what is right because it 
is right, Violet; but I don’t always succeed.” 

“Do you think it would be wrong for us to 
ask Cousin Keith if he won’t stay over just for 
two or three days? Why can’t he manage 
to do things as he likes? Papa used to.” 

“Yes, Violet, I do think it would be wrong. 
Please let us say nothing more about it.” 

“I like you when you straighten up in that 
way, Mac, and look at me in such a — such a — I 
can’t exactly tell what sort of a way it is, but as 
much as to say, ‘ There, Miss, that settles it,’ ” 
was the frank and unexpected reply he received. 

He laughed outright, and Keith smiled 
broadly behind his newspaper. 


Homeward Bound. 


279 


“What a funny girl you are, Yiolet! I didn’t 
know that I straightened up.” 

“ But you did,” laughed the girl. “ When I 
am of age, and have my own money, Mac, 
we will come back and stay a whole year in 
London to make up for this time when we can’t 
see it.” 

It was now Mac’s turn to look at her curi- 
ously, and Mr. Keith was again thankful that 
he was soon to have the assistance of Jeanie’s 
advice in the care of their cousin. 

The train had rolled into the great station as 
Violet spoke, and Mac was relieved from re- 
plying to her remark. They at once changed 
to the Liverpool train, and, on arriving there 
late in the afternoon, Mac found, to his ex- 
treme delight, that they were to return to Amer- 
ica on The Arundel. 

“Did you know it, Mr. Keith?” he asked. 

“Yes, Mac. I thought, when it turned out 
that we were delayed so long, that we should 
probably catch The Arundel on her return-trip. 
I knew it certainly when I wired for state-rooms 
three days ago. I was sure that it would be a 
pleasant surprise to you.” 

“ It is fine. You see,” he explained to Yio- 
let, “we know the officers, and the captain is 
an old friend of Mr. Keith’s, and I’ve hunted 
out all the most comfortable nooks ; so it is al- 
most like being at home.” 


280 


Over at Little Acorns. 


Keith was greatly amused at the air of pro- 
prietorship which Mac unconsciously assumed 
in both the steamship and in Violet ; and it was 
a pretty sight, which more than one of the pas- 
sengers enjoyed, to see the two as the girl was 
being initiated into the ways and the mysteries 
of life on shipboard, or as they promenaded 
the long decks together. 

The strong, clear-cut features of the tall, 
young fellow, which had outgrown all their 
boyish roundness, his close-cropped, dark hair, 
and his fine gray eyes formed a charming con- 
trast to his companion’s fair face, the long, 
sunny braids hanging beneath her travelling- 
cap, and the large, blue eyes, whose expression 
changed with every thought. 

Mac was much disappointed to find but on'e 
letter awaiting him at the steamship office. 
This was from Charlie, and was chiefly an ac- 
count of a base-ball game which he and Alec 
had attended a day or two before the date of 
writing. 

“ I wonder why he doesn’t say a word about 
the rest of them,” Mac said, when he had read 
it aloud to Violet and Keith. “ I expected surely 
that Louise would send me one of her good, long 
budgets to read on the way over, especially as 
I asked her to. You didn’t have any letter, 
either, did you, Mr. Keith, from anybody?” 


Ilomevmrd Bound. 


281 


‘‘No, Mac, not one from anybody,” replied 
Keith, smiling at his rueful face. “ But never 
mind ; we shall soon be there with them all.” 

The next morning, as they were sitting in 
one of their favorite corners, sheltered from 
the breeze, and gazing idly off across the long 
reach of rolling waves, which spread itself in- 
definitely before them, the purser approached, 
and handed Mac a thick, white envelope. It 
was addressed in Louise’s hand to 

“Mr. MacDonald Caldwell, 

“Two days at Sea, 

“Homeward Bound.” 

“ Hurrah for Louise ! ” he cried, softly, his 
face glowing with surprise and pleasure, as he 
tore it open. “This explains! I might have 
known better than to think she had forgotten. 
Isn’t she a little — ” 

But by this time his eyes were travelling 
rapidly down the sheet. As he turned the first 
page, he recollected himself. 

“I beg your pardon,” he said, blushing 
deeply. “Will you excuse me, Yiolet and Mr. 
Keith, while I read it, or shall I read it aloud 
to you?” 

“Later we will hear it with pleasure, thank 
you, Mac,” Keith responded, rising. “Come, 


282 . 


0})er at Little Acorns. 


Violet, we have not taken onr morning consti- 
tutional yet.” 

Violet was extremely curious in regard to the 
letter in which Mac was so deeply absorbed, 
but she arose, and allowed Keith to draw her 
hand within his arm as they set out on their 
walk. 

“Tell me about Louise, Cousin Keith,” she 
began, at once. “Is she pretty? How large 
is she? Is she smart? Does she go to school? 
Can she play and sing?” 

“Yes. About five feet. Quite. Yes. Some,” 
answered Keith, as quickly as he could speak. 

Violet’s face showed an amusing picture of 
amazement until she caught sight of her cous- 
in’s comically-raised eyebrows and quizzical 
expression. Then she blushed in a pretty way, 
and a little frown of impatience wrinkled her 
forehead. 

“ But tell me, please,” she repeated. 

“Tell you what, Violet?” inquired Keith, 
gravely. 

“Why, about Louise, of course. I asked 
you a whole lot of things.” 

“And I am quite sure that I answered a 
whole lot of things.” 

Again the frown appeared, this time more 
marked, for Violet was not accustomed to have 
her demands treated in this fashion. But a 


Homeward Bo und. 


283 


smile kept it close company, for she could not 
be vexed with Keith, and presently a merry 
laugh rang out. 

‘‘Are you trying to find out how patient I 
am, I wonder? Now, please, tell me if Louise 
is pretty, won’t you. Cousin Keith?” 

“Suppose I describe her, and let you judge 
for yourself. She is half-a-head shorter than 
you are, and a good deal more plump. Her 
hair is brown, very soft and thick, and she 
wears it now tied at her neck with a broad rib- 
bon. She has a smooth, fair skin, with rosy 
cheeks, in one of which a dimple plays hide- 
and-seek very often. Her eyes are fine — large 
and dark ; but their chief charm is their pecu- 
liarly sweet and winning expression. She has 
lovely, white teeth and pretty hands. Now, 
what do you think of her? ” 

Violet did not take her eyes from Keith’s 
face while he was giving her this word-picture. 

“ I am sure I shall love her,” she said, posi- 
tively. 

“ I am sure of it, too, for she has the most 
affectionate, loyal heart in the world, and the 
most happy, sunny nature. There is the mak- 
ing of a noble woman in Louise Standish — and 
in Violet Sylvester,” he added, after a moment’s 
pause. 

“Papa used to say I was good for nothing 


284 


Over at Little Acorns, 


but to outgrow my dresses and to take care of 
his pipes. I can fill and light pipes beautifully, 
Cousin Keith. But you don't smoke, do you ? ” 

For the first time her words jarred on his 
ears. Then he reminded himself that every 
one did not feel as strongly upon the subject 
of tobacco as he did, and that the motherless 
daughter of his Cousin Hubert had had little 
companionship but his. 

“No, Violet, I do not smoke,” he said, gently. 

“ Why don’t you ? Papa used to say it was 
his greatest comfort, and — I should love to do 
for you what I have so often done for him. 
Cousin Keith.” 

“My dear child!” exclaimed Keith, touched 
by her shyly-expressed wish, and layipg his 
hand for an instant over hers as it rested on 
his arm, “you shall do many other things for 
me, but never this. I will show you some time 
in your Bible these words : ‘ Know ye not that 
ye are the temples of God, and that the Spirit 
of God dwelleth in you ? ’ and in another place 
it says: ‘Know ye not that your body is the 
temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, 
which ye have of God, and ye are not your 
own? ’ ” 

“But I don’t understand; those verses don’t 
say anything about smoking.” 

“No, dear, not in so many words; but can 


Homeward Bound. 


285 


you not understand that, when a man believes 
them to be true, and feels that the Spirit of his 
Creator dwells within his body, he will have 
no desire to defile it with tobacco or any other 
poison?” 

“Poison!” cried Violet, much astonished. 
“Why, is tobacco a poison?” 

“ Of the vilest kind — ” 

They passed quite near Mac just then, and 
he called them to come and hear his letter. It 
was full of home news, and written in Louise’s 
own bright, original way. 

“I have found an answer to one of my other 
questions. Cousin Keith,” remarked Violet, 
when she had heard it all; “Louise is smart.” 

“Of course Louise is smart,” said Mac, “and 
so is Marcia. You ought to have seen what 
they did for me last spring.” And then he 
went on to tell her the history of the prize 
essay. 

The next morning at breakfast another thick 
envelope was found at Mac’s plate : 

“Me. Mac Caldwell, 

“Three days out. 

“Seasick, eh?” 

“ That’s Alec’s fist. I’d know it in the dark I 
Isn’t this jolly, now?” exclaimed the delighted 


286 


Over at Little Acorns. 


recipient, as he turned over page after page 
of “Alexander the Great’s” brilliant efforts. 

“It will keep until after breakfast, Mac,” 
suggested Keith. 

“Y — e— s, I suppose it will,” was the rather 
reluctant rejoinder, as the bulky epistle was 
folded and thrust into his coat-pocket. “It 
seems a year at least since we left New York, 
doesn’t it, Mr. Keith, now that we are so nearly 
back again?” 

Keith laughed. 

“It seems to me that you have changed your 
mind. How long ago was it that I heard a lad 
of about your size wishing that the days were 
forty- eight hours long, so the time for going 
home would not come so quickly?” 

“That is a puzzling thing, Mr. Keith, how 
time can seem so long and so short at the same 
time.” 

“Let me know when you solve the puzzle to 
your satisfaction,” said Keith, amused. “Are 
you going to share your letter with us? If not, 
Yiolet and I will finish our chapter in Hoh 

Royr 

“Why, certainly I’m going to read it to you. 
I’ll bring our chairs out,” said Mac, as they 
rose from the table. 

It had been cloudy all the morning, for the 
first time since leaving Liverpool, and just be- 


Homeward Bound. 


287 


fore nooD a yiolent storm arose, which lasted 
three days, and kept nearly all the passengers 
in their state-rooms. Mac was the only one of 
his party who kept up, and the only pleasant 
event of the dismal days was the receipt each 
morning of a fresh letter from one or another 
of the children. He read them over and over 
again, until he knew them almost by heart. It 
was not until they were slowly steaming up 
New York harbor that Violet and Keith read 
them. They were none the worse for their 
enforced seclusion, and all three were in the 
gayest possible spirits. Violet, especially, saw 
everything with vivid pleasure. Her beautiful 
blue eyes were brilliant with excitement as she 
caught the first glimpse of the wonderful new 
world which was to be her home. 

They were standing near the rail when the 
pilot-boat came alongside, and suddenly Mac 
cried: “There’s papa! and Alec! See, Mr. 
Keith!” 

With a bound he was off, and Keith would 
not have been surprised to see him leap clear 
of everything and land on the boat below them. 
He did nothing so rash, however, but stood 
ready to grasp his father’s hand the instant he 
set foot on The ArundeVs deck. Alec fol- 
lowed close behind, and the two boys indulged 
in a good hug, notwithstanding their many 


288 


Over at Little Acorns. 


inches. Then it was Keith’s turn to receive a 
warm welcome from botn his friends. 

‘‘And this is the English Violet we have all 
been hearing so much about, I am sure,” said 
Uncle Ben, shaking Violet’s hand cordially and 
kissing her cheek. “Welcome to America, my 
dear. I’ve brought several bushels of love to 
you from all our youngsters. They can hardly 
wait until you get her up to Standish, Keith ; 
and as for Mac, I think he’d better get his life 
insured before he ventures within sight of the 
Sylvester Hills.” 

Alec made his very best bow, and stood 
chatting easily with Violet, while Keith and 
Mac got their baggage together, and prepared 
to land with as little delay as possible. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


HOME AGAIN. 

‘ ‘ Home again ! home again ! 

From a foreign shore ; 

And, oh ! it makes the heart rejoice 
To see our friends once more ! ” 

— Old Song. 

A bout three weeks after the departure of 
Mr. Keith and Mac for England, Louise 
was made happy by an invitation from Miss 
Janet to meet her in New York and help her 
select furnishings for Violet’s room at “Little 
Acorns.” 

“And I shall be delighted,” she wrote, “if 
your papa and sister can spare you to spend 
the next month with me. It will be so pleas- 
ant to have your assistance in getting every- 
thing ready for Violet; and I am sure it will 
add greatly to her enjoyment of her new home 
to find here a companion of her own age.” 

“I don’t deserve it, sister,” said Louise, when 
she had read this to Marcia. “I shall tell 
Auntie Jean just how horrid I have been, the 
very minute I see her; and — oh! won’t it be 
lovelier than anything to go shopping with her 
in New York to get all sorts of pretty things 
19 289 


290 


Over at Little Acorns. 


for Yiolet’s room? Wasn’t it good of her to 
ask me?” 

Marcia, looking into the bright, glowing face 
of her yonng sister, thought that all the pleas- 
ure was not to be on her side ; but she did not 
say so to Louise. 

Her trunk was promptly packed, for permis- 
sion had been heartily given for the acceptance 
of this invitation; and one perfect September 
morning she started with her father for New 
York. The ride along the shore, across the 
ferry, and on the elevated train to the hotel 
was one of unmixed delight. They found Janet 
awaiting them, and, as soon as Mr. Standish 
had taken his leave, she and Louise set out to 
make their purchases. 

“I’m going to give Violet the east room, op- 
posite mine, Louise,” said Janet, as they were 
speeding downtown again. “ Do you think oak 
furniture, or white enamel, or a brass bedstead 
with other pieces of rattan, will be prettiest?” 

Louise pondered this momentous question 
very seriously. It was not until they reached 
the Twenty-third-street station and had left 
the train that she arrived at a decision. There 
was such a crowd at the foot of the stairs 
that she was obliged to fall behind her com- 
panion. She was quite breathless when she 
came close to her. 


Home Again, 


291 


“I think I’ll have to hold on to your dress, 
the way little children do in picture-books, 
Auntie Jean,” she said, laughing. 

“ Slip your hand through my arm, dear. 
There! that is better, is it not?” 

“Yes, ever so much better. Don’t you think. 
Auntie Jean, that a brass bedstead, and a chif- 
fonier and dressing-table, and a dear little 
rocker in white enamel with violets painted on 
it in tiny bunches and little ‘scatters,’ would 
be the very loveliest? Do you suppose they 
come like that ? ” 

Janet smiled at the earnest face. 

“I’m afraid Keith would have remonstrated 
with Miss Lucinda if he had heard that last 
sentence.” 

“Why, what did I say?” asked Louise, try- 
ing to recall. “Something wrong in grammar? 
Oh! well,” she went on, the slight expression 
of perplexity vanishing like mist in the sun- 
shine as she said, in the most delightfully con- 
fidential way, “never mind about grammar to- 
day, Auntie Jean, when we have such more 
important things to think of.” 

Janet laughed merrily. 

“ ‘ Such more ’important things,’ are they ? 
Well, dear, I shall not quarrel with your Eng- 
lish to-day, at least. Now we will go in here 
and see what we can find in the way of violets 


292 


Over at Little Acorns. 


for our Violet. I hope we shall be fortunate 
enough to discover a desk to match the other 
pieces.” 

“A desk? Oh! how lovely that will be! I 
have enjoyed mine, that papa gave me last 
Christmas, so much. And we must have every- 
thing for the dressing-table of white china with 
violets, too, mustn’t we?” 

“That will be easy enough. How would you 
like to get some linen for scarfs, and select 
some dainty designs to be stamped on them? 
Do you think that you could embroider them 
in time?” 

“I can try. Auntie Jean; and I’m going to 
buy some little thing for my own present to 
Violet. Something pretty for her desk will be 
the nicest, won’t it ? ” 

“We will go to Tiffany’s for that. Now, 
Louise, we must decide upon the furniture.” 

At the end of three busy days, in which time 
was found for a long, delightful drive through 
Central Park and a visit to one or two galleries, 
all their purchases had been satisfactorily made 
and ordered to be sent at once to Standish, 
and Louise, very tired, but very happy, curled 
down in one corner of her seat in the train, 
and scarcely spoke all the way home. A long 
night’s rest, however, banished every particle 
of fatigue, and she was up the next morning, 
eager to get to work. 


293 


Home Again. 

The first person that she saw as she opened 
the door of her room was Hilda, sweet and rosy, 
busily engaged in rummaging through the tray 
of her trunk, the top of which she had care- 
lessly left open the night before. 

“Oh! you little darling!” she cried, catching 
her up and kissing her many times. “Where 
did you run away from, and what are you doing 
with Weesa’s pretty things? See, now, let’s 
put them back! ” 

Hilda looked gravely on while Louise un- 
tangled the skeins of embroidery-silk whose 
delicate violet and heliotrope shades had taken 
the little one’s fancy. Her joy was complete 
when a soft ball of gay wools was brought forth 
from another tray and given into her dimpled 
hands. Just then an odd, rushing sound was 
heard along the stairway, and Haco came 
bounding up, overjoyed to see his little mis- 
tress, and nearly knocking Hilda over in his 
attempts to get near her. 

“Gently, Haco, gently!” cried Louise. “It 
is good to see you again, doggie. Has Hilda 
been a good little mistress to you?” 

Haco wagged his tail to and fro like a great 
black plume, and looked as though he were 
laughing an affirmative answer to this question. 

The sound of the breakfast bell interrupted 
their romp. 


294 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“Good morning, Louise,” said Janet, kissing 
the smiling lips held up to hers. “ You look 
very happy. I hope you slept well.” 

“ Foine, ma’am, foine, as that queer old Irish- 
man up at the quarry used to say,” replied 
Louise, laughing heartily at the recollection. 
“ Wasn't he an odd old fellow ? ” 

“ Yes, dear, he has queer ways ; but his heart 
is pure gold. He has had a hard time this 
summer. I’ll tell you about it some time. Per- 
haps you will like to help him and his children ; 
no, not now. They are suffering for nothing 
and we have other matters to attend to ; but 
before cold weather I shall look after them a 
little, and you and Violet, too, may feel inclined 
to assist me.” 

“ Do you know how Violet looks. Auntie 
Jean?” asked Louise. 

“ Keith wrote me that she very strongly re- 
sembles her Aunt Violet Kothsay, who died ten 
or twelve years ago. If you will go to the left- 
hand drawer in that old-fashioned secretary in 
the library you will find a small portrait in a 
blue-velvet case. It is painted on ivory and 
was said at the time to be a perfect likeness. 
Eat your breakfast first, my dear ” 

But Louise was out of the room before Janet 
finished, forgetting her usual good manners in 
her eager curiosity to see the picture. Very 


295 


Home Again. 

soon she returned, walking slowly and regard- ’ 
ing with earnest intentness the beautiful face 
which gazed so happily up at her from the 
frame she held in her hand. 

“I wonder if Violet is really as lovely as 
this ? ” said Louise. 

“We shall soon know, for here is a letter 
from Keith saying that if all goes well with them 
and they have fine weather they ought to. be in 
by the twentieth.” 

“And this is the twelfth. That gives us a 
whole week and one day to spare.” 

The “ whole week ” was a busy one at both 
“The Acorns” and “Little Acorns,” for the 
Standish family had returned from the seashore 
and there was much to be done to get all the 
children ready for school. Mac’s room, too, 
had a thorough refitting, and Louise put one of 
the scarfs she had embroidered with dainty care 
upon his bureau. It was decorated with vio- 
lets, and she put a bunch of these lovely flowers 
upon his table the morning of his expected 
arrival. Violet’s room, and indeed the whole 
house at “Little Acorns,” was sweet with their 
fragrance, for Louise had stripped every bed at 
both places, besides sending the gardener from 
“ The Acorns” into Standish for more. Scarcely 
was the last one arranged when a carriage drove 
up and there were the travellers, several hours 
ahead of time. 


296 Over at Little Acorns, 

Louise’s cry of delight brought Miss Janet to 
the veranda, and warm greetings were speedily 
exchanged. Mac had leaped out over the 
wheel before the horses were pulled up. 

“I am so glad to see you again, Auntie 
Jean,” he cried, stooping his tall head to kiss 
her. 

“Not one bit more than I am to have you at 
home again, Mac,” was her loving response. 

Then she turned to Keith, and the next 
moment Yiolet felt herself clasped in a close 
embrace and heard some one say, “Welcome 
home! dear Violet.” 

She looked up into the sweet, kind face 
bending near her own, and she felt that the 
question which she had many times asked 
herself during the last month was at last an- 
swered. She loved her Cousin Janet. 

Meantime she was being regarded very in- 
tently by Louise, who stood by Mac. “Isn’t 
she lovely ? ” he whispered, and Louise decided 
that she was, as she saw the slight figure, which 
looked tall in its long travelling coat, the long, 
thick braid of golden hair, hanging far below 
her waist, her soft, blue eyes, the exact coun- 
terparts of those in the portrait, the round 
white chin and the pretty red lips. 

“ Come, Louise,” said Keith, “ let me introduce 
you to my cousin, Yiolet Sylvester. Yiolet, 


297 


Home Again, 

this is our dear little friend, Louise Standish, 
about whom you have asked me so many ques- 
tions.” 

The brown eyes met the blue ones somewhat 
shyly. 

“I’m so glad you have come here to live, 
Yiolet,” said Louise, with graceful courtesy. 
“Auntie Jean, may I take her upstairs?” 

“If you please, dear. Mac, will you take 
the satchels? I will come presently.” 

Yiolet stood for a moment in the centre of 
her room looking around it. 

“ How perfectly lovely this is,” was her ex- 
clamation. “ Did Cousin Janet do it for me ? ” 

“Yes, Yiolet, and — and — I helped her,” re- 
plied Louise, flushing with pleasure at her evi- 
dent delight. 

Yiolet came near and put both arms about 
her. 

“You are a dear little thing, Louise. I told 
Cousin Keith I knew I should love you, and I 
do. Won’t you kiss me and love me, too? ” 


CHAPTER XXXIL 
“ifr ANDT.^^ 


‘ ‘ Touch the goblet no more ! 

It will make thy heart sore 
To its very core ! 

Its perfume is the breath 
Of the Angel of Death, 

And the light that within it lies 
Is the flash of his evil eyes. 
Beware! oh! beware! 

For sickness, sorrow, and care, 
All are there.” 


—Henry Wadstporth Longfellow. 



HEN he went np to the chapel on the 


V V morning after his arrival, Keith found 
that work on it had progressed during his ab- 
sence much more rapidly than he had ex- 
pected. The outside was almost entirely com- 
pleted, and three weeks more, the foreman as- 
sured him, would see the inside finished. He 
also learned, when he kept on up the hillside 
and reached the quarry hamlet, a bit of news 
which Janet had purposely refrained from writ- 
ing to him, for the sake of giving him a pleas- 
ant surprise. 

A large syndicate had, about the last of Au- 
gust, bought up an immense tract of land to 


298 


Andyy 


299 


the west of the quarry, and was preparing to 
extend operations in that direction. Houses 
for the workmen were being put up, and every 
effort was being made to accomplish as much 
as possible before cold weather. Some of this 
information Keith received from his old friends, 
who were rejoiced to see him among them once 
more ; some he discovered from his own ob- 
servation, as he stood in the midst of the dig- 
ging, the hauling, the blasting, the pounding, 
which transformed the quiet place. It was a 
busy scene, and he surveyed it with interest. 

“The field widens,” he thought; “it is white 
even unto the harvest. Mr. Standish saw more 
clearly than I did when he insisted upon build- 
ing the chapel with a capacity twice too large 
for its audience. Old Sir Hubert’s eyes would 
be gladdened by this sight. I wish the village 
might be named for him.” 

“Gude marnin’. Master Keith,” said a deep, 
pleasant voice close beside him. “It’s gude 
for ane’s eyes to see ye on our hillside again.” 

“Good-morning, Robert. I’m heartily glad 
to see you,” replied Keith, as he turned and 
grasped cordially the brawny hand held out to 
him. “You are looking better than when I 
bade you good-bye a few weeks ago.” 

“Thank the Lord, Master Keith, I am in 
better health. Sometimes I’m thinkin’ its a 


300 


Over at Little Acorns. 


happy heart has made my puir auld body more 
comfortable. It’s three weeks now since my 
Andy turned frae his evil ways and began to 
serve the Lord Jesus Christ. Think o’ that, 
mon, and can ye wonder I’m lookin’ better?” 

Keith uttered a silent thanksgiving before he 
gave voice to his great delight at this most un- 
expected news, for Andy Graham had been, 
apparently, the most indifferent, as well as the 
most vicious, of all the men among whom he 
had worked. 

“ ‘ Behold, the Lord’s hand is not straitened, 
that it cannot save ; neither his ear heavy, that 
it cannot hear.’ How is it, Robert, that we are 
so easily discouraged, and so burdened with 
what appears to be failure, when we might 
trust as happily in our heavenly Father as a 
little child does in its mother’s arms?” 

He spoke more sadly than was his wont, as 
he looked across the smiling valley, which un- 
rolled itself like a carpet at their feet. 

“I feel so keenly rebuked for my weak faith,” 
he went on, “in the presence of such blessed 
tidings as you have brought me. Thank the 
Lord, indeed, for Andy’s conversion. How was 
it, Robert? If he’s as strong for the right as 
he has been for the wrong, he’ll be a power up 
here.” 

“Ay, Master Keith, my Andy’s no weaklin’,” 


301 


AndyT 

replied the father, a look of pride softening for 
a moment his rugged, weather-beaten features. 
‘‘An’ he’ll no turn back frae the plough when 
once he’s put his hand to ’t. That’s nae the 
way wi’ the Grahams. Will ye coom, sir, an’ 
sit doon on yonder rock whiles I tell ye aboot 
it? My back’s nane sae strong since the rocks 
tried to crush the life oot o’ me. They did 
their best, ye ken, but the gude Lord wasna 
plannin’ to let auld Robert gae oot o’ the warld 
leavin’ his boy i’ the clutch o’ the wicked one.” 

They walked a few steps to the ledge Robert 
had indicated, and when they were seated there 
Keith was again surprised, for his companion 
began his story somewhat abruptly by saying: 
‘‘ It was all the doin’s o’ that lad o’ yours. Mas- 
ter Keith.” 

“That lad of mine?” repeated Keith, quite 
puzzled. “I have no lad. Oh! perhaps you 
mean Mac?” 

“Ay, sir; that tall lad wi’ the bonny grey 
eyes an’ the gude auld Scotch name, MacDon- 
ald. He’s a rare lad. Master Keith, a rare lad. 
I’ve watched him mony a time goin’ aboot 
among the quarrymen — rough fellows they are, 
too, the most o’ them — an’ he always wi’ a 
pleasant word an’ a kindly way, a-preachin’ 
more o’ true religion by them than by ony ser- 
mon in the kirk ye could get them to listen to. 


302 


Over at Little Acorns, 


My Andy noticed him, too, an’ he tried to tempt 
him into his wicked ways — ^just oot o’ spite, I 
think. Ye ken his conscience wasna givin’ him 
sich a powerfu’ lot o’ comfort, an’ the sight o’ 
MacDonald, sae straight an’ sae bright, fairly 
maddened him ; sae ane day — it was an ngly, 
wet day — when the lad had coom oop wi’ some 
gude things or other for the Peterses — ye ken 
that family o’ ne’er-do-weels over i’ the gully — 
on his way doon the hillside he coom by our 
house, wet to the skin, but whistlin’ as cheery 
as a bird, sir. My Andy was loafin’ i’ the 
kitchen, an’ called him in. I was oop i’ the 
loft an’ bearin’ every word they spoke. 

‘‘ Says Andy, ‘ Coom in. Master Mac, an’ I’ll 
feex ye oop the nicest little toddy ye iver see.’ 

“There was a wicked look in his eye, an’ I 
kenned weel that that toddy would be hell fire 
itself. 

“ ‘ I’ll coom in a minute an’ get dry, Andy,’ 
says Master MacDonald, as pleasant as could 
be, ‘but I’ll have no toddy, thank you.’ 

“ ‘ But you’re as wet as the flood ; ye’ll be 
catchin’ your death o’ cold. Master Mac,’ says 
my Andy, puttin’ a chair for him, an’ stirrin’ 
oop the fire. Then he got oot the sugar-bowl 
frae the cupboard, an’ a couple o’ lemons, an’ 
poured oot a tumblerful o’ hot water, an’ mixed 
oop some lemonade, tasty enough. 


Andy"' 


303 


‘ That looks gude, Andy,’ says Master Mac- 
Donald, dryin’ his jacket by the fire. 

“ ‘An’ ’twill taste gude now. Master Mac,* 
says Andy, in the wheedlin’ way he has some- 
times, as he whips out a bottle an’ pours the 
vile stuff frae it into the glass. ‘ Just a wee bit, 
lad ; ’twill do ye no harm. You’re surely not 
afraid o’ a few drops o’ gude auld Scotch whis- 
key that the bravest men in a’ the warld were fed 
on, are ye?’ 

“He had dropped his wheedlin’ tones now, 
Master Keith, an’, like the sly an’ schemin’ 
master he sarved, he roused a’ the lad’s pride 
by his sneerin’ taunt. He came oop nearer to 
him, an’ his evil face was dark wi’ anger. Mas- 
ter MacDonald took the tumbler an’ held it oop 
between fingers which shook like a leaf i’ the 
wind. His face was as white as death, an’ I 
was a’ ready to leap down frae the loft an* 
snatch the cursed thing frae his hand if it had 
stirred ane inch toward his innocent lips. But 
I had nae need o’ leapin’. Master Keith. For 
ane long minute they stood there facin’ each 
other — neither o’ them breathin’, it seemed to 
me, an’ my auld heart beatin’ like mad — when, 
quick as a flash. Master MacDonald walked to 
the door an’ flung the tumbler hard against the 
big stane at our gate. I heerd it crash into a 
thousand bits, an’ I thanked the Lord for the 


304 


Over at Little Acorns. 


brave heart he had put into that boy’s breast ; 
for I tell ye, Master Keith, there’s mony a mon 
would have trembled before the face my Andy 
showed when the lad coom back an’ put both 
hands on his shoulders, an’ said, so quiet like : 
‘Yes, Andy, I am afraid to trust myself wi’ 
ony evil thing. I wish you would be afraid, 
too, an’ learn how blessed a thing it is to have 
the dear Saviour for a friend. He knows so 
well how to help us over the hard places, Andy. 
I pray for you every day that you, too, may 
love him.’ 

“Wi’ that he went away, an’ my Andy, 
swearin’ an awfu’ oath, emptied his bottle down 
his throat an’ fell on the floor in a drunken sleep. 
But I noticed that frae that day he was dif- 
ferent. He would sit for hours at a time wi’ 
his head in his hands, never sayin’ a word ; an’ 
then again he’d drink worse than ever. One 
night he says to me, ‘ What’s coom o’ Master 
Mac?’ 

“An’ I says, ‘ Didn’ ye ken he’s gane to the 
auld countree along wi’ Master Keith ? ’ 

“ ‘An’ isna’ he coomin’ back? ’ he asks turnin’ 
quick around. 

“‘If the Lord wills, Andy,’ says I. 

“After a long bit o’ quiet, he says, ‘ Father, 
was I ever a boy like him ? I can’t remember 
when I wasna’ a wicked mon fu’ o’ evil.’ 


“ My AndyT 


305 


‘‘My auld heart stirred for joy, for when had 
he called me ‘ F ather ’ in that lovin’ way 
before ? I tried to keep my voice steady for 
fear o’ vexin’ him, as I says, ‘Ay, Andy, when 
ye was a new-born babe lyin’ in your mither’s 
arms an’ lookin’ oop at your father like a wee 
bit angel straight out o’ heaven, ye was as pure 
an’ as innocent as Master MacDonald ever was. 
An’ for mony a happy year ye was a dutifu’ 
lad to your mither an’ to me — our comfort an’ 
our pride.’ 

“ ‘Do you think my mither knows — how I am 
now ? ’ says my Andy, very soft. 

“ ‘ I dinna ken, my boy ; but the dear Lord 
who made ye in his own likeness an’ image he 
kens an’ grieves more sair o’er it than the most 
lovin’ mither ever could, my puir lad.’ 

“Somethin’ choked me oop an’ I couldn’t say 
ony more for thinkin’ how it might be if his 
sweet mither really did ken. I had never 
thought o’ that before, except to be thankfu’ 
that she was spared the sight o’ him day by 
day. An’ then. Master Keith, my Andy stood 
oop on his twa feet an’ he drew his puir, trem- 
blin’, whiskey-soaked body oop straight as he 
could, an' he looked me i’ the eye like a mon, 
an’ he says : ‘ Father, I’m goin’ to try to be 

like Master Mac. Won’t ye help me, father, 
an’ ask God to help me, too ? ’ 

20 


306 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“I tell ye, sir, there aren’t mony angels in 
heaven happier than I was then, nor than I 
am now, for my Andy has stuck to his word 
an’ — but ye must coom over an’ see him for 
yoursel’, sir. He’s had mony a hard battle wi’ 
the auld adversary an’ there’s mony anither 
waitin’ for him, for he was a good sarvant an’ 
can’t be spared so easy ; but we just get doon 
on our knees togither an’ the gude Lord Jesus 
he cooms there wi’ us close an’ near an’ ’taint 
long before the deevil gi’es it oop as a bad job, 
sir.” 

As Keith walked back down the hillside after 
a while his thoughts were still occupied with 
old Robert’s tale and his heart was stirred 
within him. 

“ Mac, my noble boy, must know of this,” he 
said to himself, and almost at the same instant 
he heard his whistle and saw him coming up 
the road, “ sae straight and sae bright.” 

“I was sure I should find you here, Mr. 
Keith,” he said, as they met at the chapel. 
“ Have you been over it? ” 

‘‘Yes, Mac, and I will go again with you. 
Everything has gone on in the best possible 
manner.” 

When they had made the rounds they sat 
down on the grass outside. 

“Ilsn’t it a beauty, Mr. Keith ? ” asked Mac, 


‘‘ My Andy'' 


307 


stretching himself out at full length on the soft, 
thick sward and gazing up at the graceful out- 
lines which stood out clearly against the deep 
blue of the sky. 

I scarcely see how it could be improved,” 
replied Mr. Keith. “I was afraid, from the 
designs, that the bell-tower would be too heavy 
for the height of the walls ; but now that the 
scaffolding is all down the proportions seem to 
be perfect. Mac, I have heard some good news 
this morning. I wonder if you can guess which 
one of the quarry men will be the first to join 
our little church in this new chapel.” 

“Is it some one who has become a Christian 
since we went away; do you mean that, Mr. 
Keith?” 

“Yes.” 

“John Doane?” 

“No.” 

“ Teddy Lowe ? I think he has been a Chris- 
tian for some time, Mr. Keith, only he is afraid 
to say so.” 

“No, Mac. It is not Teddy Lowe. Guess 
the most unhkely one you can think of.'’ 

“Not Scott Kelly?” said Mac, incredu- 
lously. 

“ No, my boy. It is some one far more deeply 
sunk in wickedness than poor Scott, even Andy 
Graham.” 


308 


Over at Little Acorns. 


Mac sprang to his feet and looked down at 
his friend in astonishment. 

“ I can hardly believe that, Mr. Keith. Who 
told you. Do you think it can be true ? ” 

‘‘ I fear I should find it hard to do so had I 
not been told by Robert himself just a few 
minutes ago up at the old quarry.” 

‘‘How happy Robert must be,” said Mac, 
sitting down again. “ He is such a grand man, 
Mr. Keith, and he loves Andy so much. Don’t 
you remember how earnestly he used to pray 
for him at our little meetings last winter? I 
wonder how it happened ! There wasn’t a man 
up here who worked against you as Andy did.” 

“ He will work with us now, Mac, and it is to 
you, under God, that Andy Graham owes his 
salvation.” 

Mac’s ruddy cheek grew pale as he turned 
his wondering eyes upon Keith. “ To me, Mr. 
Keith,” he repeated, slowly, “ I do not under- 
stand.” 

Then Keith told the story as Robert had told 
it to him, and long before he had finished tears 
were rolling down the boy’s cheeks. 

“ I don’t know what I am crying for,” he 
said, half-ashamed, as he wiped the bright 
drops away. “ I was never so happy in my life, 
Mr. Keith. Oh ! is it not wonderful that such 
a little thing as that can change a man’s whole 


“ My Andy^ 


309 


life ? It shows, doesn’t it, that God can make 
our least actions work for his glory just as he 
made the loaves and the fishes feed so many 
people? May I go up and see Andy now? 
Do you think he will care to see me ? ” 

He was on his feet again, and his face was 
beaming. 

“ I am quite sure, Mac, that you will always 
be welcome in that house.” 

He was off with a bound ; but he went only a 
few steps before he came back to Keith’s side. 

“ If Andy is to be the first to join the church 
in the new chapel, will you let me be the 
second?” he asked. 

“ Gladly, Mac ; and may it be a blessed day 
to you,” was Keith’s reply. He put his arm 
about the boy’s shoulder, and together they 
walked away up the pleasant, shady road. 


CHAPTEK XXXIIL 


BEAUTY^ 8 ARRIVAL. 

“Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; 

Do noble things, not dream them all day long; 

And so make life, death, and that vast forever 
One grand, sweet song.” 

— Charles Kingsley. 

T’M SO thankful that school doesn’t begin 

JL until the first of October this year,” said 
Louise, one morning, as she and Violet were 
busy unpacking a large box, and either ar- 
ranging its contents about the pretty “violet” 
room, or stowing them away in the attic. “You 
see, it isn’t as though you had come to make a 
visit; then there would be only your clothes to 
attend to ; but when you have regularly moved 
over, there is — everything!” 

“Be careful. Miss Louise,” exclaimed Ellen, 
the maid, whom Miss J anet had sent up to help 
them; “that box is too heavy for you.” 

“Oh! what a beauty!” cried Louise, pulling 
the wrappings from a handsome dressing-case 
of carved sandalwood. 

“That was mamma’s. Papa let me use it. 
Wait till I get the key, and I will show you 
the—” 

But just then Marcia came flying up the 
310 


Beauty's Arrival. 311 

stairs and into the room, her face aglow with 
excitement. 

‘‘Oh! Violet, your lovely little horse has 
come 1 Mac has brought her out from Stand- 
ish!” 

Violet dropped the key, and was out of the 
house almost before Marcia had finished speak- 
ing. It did not take the other girls long to fol- 
low her. 

“Oh! you darling! You’re glad to see your 
mistress, aren’t you, after being shut up in that 
horrid steamer all this time?” Violet was say- 
ing, with her arms around Beauty’s neck. “ Is 
she not a jewel, Louise? But you should see 
her gait. Mac, where is my saddle ? ” 

Mac, sitting on one of the horses from “ The 
Acorns’” stable, and still holding Beauty’s 
leading-rein, had no eyes for anything but the 
pretty picture before him. He did not notice 
the cloud on Louise’s brow, nor dream of the 
storm which was rising in her breast. 

“It is in the store-room in Auntie Jean’s 
barn.” 

“Please put it on Beauty. I must have a 
ride. I’ll go with you. I’ve saddled her hun- 
dreds of times. Come, Beauty.” 

The intelligent creature obeyed her, and 
Mac followed. In an incredibly short time, it 
seemed to Marcia, she trotted quickly out of 


312 


Over at Little Acorns. 


the stable with Violet on her back. Her arched 
neck and her dainty stepping plainly showed 
her delight at carrying again her familiar bur- 
den. Violet’s face was beaming as she brought 
Beauty around to the front of the house and 
displayed her good points. Suddenly she 
turned to Mac, who had again mounted Dandy. 

‘‘ Let’s have a race, Mac ! ” 

“But you have on no habit, Violet, nor hat.” 

“Oh! never mind! I’ll borrow Marcia’s.” 
And, bending swiftly sideways, she snatched 
off Marcia’s broad-brimmed straw hat, put it 
on her own head, tied the ribbons under her 
chin, and was off like a flash. Mac was quickly 
at her side, and they were lost to view behind 
the trees long before the sound of their horses’ 
feet upon the smooth, hard road had died away. 

Janet, who had been in her garden, came 
through the house just in time to hear the un- 
usual noise, to see Louise walking swiftly to- 
ward her own home, and Marcia looking rather 
startled, and undecided as to which way she 
should go. 

“Where is Violet, dear?” Miss Janet asked. 

Marcia hesitated a moment. 

“ She has gone with Mac, riding on her lovely 
white pony.” 

“When did it come?” inquired Miss Janet, 
surprised. 


313 


Beauty's Arrival. 

“ Only a few minutes ago. I was coming 
over on an errand for mamma; and Mac over- 
took me at the gate. He was on Dandy, and 
had led Violet’s pony out from Standish.” 

“ Did Violet wear her habit ? ” 

“ Oh ! no. She went just as she was, in her 
white muslin — only she borrowed my hat.” 

Miss J anet looked anxiously toward the large 
gate which led to the highway. Then she said 
to Marcia: “Won’t you come in? Louise will 
soon be back, I dare say; and perhaps you, 
too, will like to help me make some spice 
cakes.” 

“Oh! yes; I’d like it so much, thank you, 
Auntie Jean. I’ll run and ask mamma. Oh! 
that makes me think. She told me to ask you 
and Mr. Keith and Violet to come over and 
take tea with us to-morrow evening. Alec and 
Helen and Charlie will be out from Standish. 
Isn’t it pleasant that they’re going to live there 
now? You’ll be sure to come, won’t you?” 

“Yes, Marcia. Tell your mamma that all the 
^Little Acorns’ accept with pleasure.” 

Marcia laughed merrily at this, and ran off 
to get permission to assist Auntie Jean in the 
concoction of her special dainties. 

Louise, in the meantime, wretchedly un- 
{lappy, had quickly sought her sister’s room, 
ivhere she found her busy putting the last 


314 


Over at Little Acorns. 


stitches into a pretty frock for Marcia. Mrs. 
Eliot looked up in surprise at the rushing foot- 
steps. When she saw the flushed, tear-stained 
face, she dropped the ribbons and muslin to 
the floor, and opened her arms. Louise flew 
to that never-failing refuge, crying as though 
her heart would break. 

“Oh! sister,” she said, between her sobs, 
“I’ve ’got to do it all over again, only this 
time it’s a hundred times worse than it was 
before.” 

Marcia made no reply except to smooth back 
the thick, soft locks from her little sister’s fore- 
head with fingers whose every touch told of 
love and sympathy. Presently she heard her 
daughter’s quick steps on the stairs. Raising 
one hand, she motioned her to come quietly. 
Marcia tiptoed into the room with an expres- 
sion of concern on her happy face. 

“Is Louise sick, mamma? Let me bring 
something for her.” 

“ Her head is very hot, but it will be better 
presently. Did you wish to speak to me, 
dear?” 

“Yes, mamma; Auntie Jean has asked me to 
help her make some of her delicious spice 
cakes. Oh! and she says that all the ‘Little 
Acorns’ accept with pleasure, and I may go, 
/namma, may I not?” 


315 


Beauty's Arrival. 

“Mamma” could not help smiling at the 
eager eyes and the funny sentence. 

“ Yes, dear ; be home to luncheon, and please 
elose this door as you go out.” 

As soon as she and Louise were alone, she 
said, “Now tell me all about it, little girl.” 

“That is just what I’m going to do. I know 
it will take all the heavy load away to tell you,” 
answered Louise, who was more quiet now. 
“ Oh ! sister, how did I ever live without you 
so long?” and she gave Marcia a close hug. 
“It was the pony. As soon as I saw Violet on 
her back, and saw the way Mac looked at 
her, as though — as though he thought she was 
the nicest girl in the world, I felt all horrid in a 
minute. That dreadful something so fierce and 
so strong came into my heart and almost stifled 
me, and I could have gone over and struck 
Violet, I do believe. Oh! it is so terrible, 
sister, and I’d be ashamed to have anybody 
but you know about it. I’m ashamed even to 
remember it now, and I tried — I really did — 
to make it go away. Perhaps I might have 
done it, but just then she called out, ‘Let’s 
have a race,’ and off they went, and I came up 
here to you as fast as I could.” 

Her head went down again on Marcia’s 
shoulder, and it was very still in the pleasant 


room. 


316 


Omr at Little Acorns. 


“Am I going to feel this way every little 
while always, sister?” a pitiful voice asked at 
length. 

“I’m afraid so, darling, unless you conquer 
this wicked demon that gets possession of your 
heart. Its name is jealousy, Louise, and it can 
destroy years of happiness in a very short time. 
The opposite of jealousy is love, and I will give 
you a beautiful verse about this kind of love. 
If you will learn it, and try to think of it when 
the hateful feeling comes into your heart, I am 
sure it will help you to be loving and gentle. 
This is it : ‘ Love doth not behave herself un- 
seemly, seeketh not her own ; is not easily pro- 
voked ; thinketh no evil.’ ” 

“ I think that verse must have been made on 
purpose for me, sister,” said Louise in a low 
tone, when the divine words had fallen upon 
her ears like a benediction, “for I did every 
one of those things. I behaved so very un- 
seemly ; I sought only my own pleasure ; I was 
dreadfully provoked, and I thought all sorts of 
evil things about Violet. Isn’t it queer that I 
don’t feel a bit cross towards Mac? It is all 
towards Violet.” 

A fleeting smile lighted the seriousness of 
Marcia’s face at the frank unconsciousness of 
this question. “ My little woman,” she thought 
tenderly. 


Beauty's Arrival, 317 

“Please tell me the verse again, sister.” 

“I’ll read it, or you may read it from my 
Bible,” said Marcia, taking her Bible from a 
table at her side. Louise sat up and took the 
well-worn volume in her hands. 

“Where is it, sister? Somewhere in Corin- 
thians, isn’t it ? Why the Bible came open at 
the very chapter! Isn’t that queer? It seems 
to come open at ever so many places,” she ex- 
claimed, as she closed it and let it open of its 
own accord several times. “My Bible doesn’t 
do so. I guess yours is too old, sister. It is 
all dingy on the outside, and see how some of 
the leaves are worn. I’ll give you a beautiful 
new one for Christmas.” 

Marcia smiled. 

“Read the whole chapter, dear; the thir- 
teenth of First Corinthians.” 

When she had finished, Marcia took the 
Bible from her hands and turned its pages 
lovingly. 

“Why is it, little sister?” she asked, “that 
the path across our lawn between here and 
Auntie Jean’s is worn so much more than the 
one on the east side, which goes over to Mrs. 
Franklin’s?” 

“ What a funny question I Why, because it is 
used more, of course.” 

“And why is it used more ? ” 


318 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“We are always going to Auntie Jean’s, and 
very seldom to Mrs. Franklin’s.” 

“And what is the reason of that, dear?” 
gently inquired Marcia. 

Louise considered a moment before she an- 
swered. 

“Because we love Auntie Jean so much bet- 
ter, I suppose.” 

“Can you not see, then, Louise, why my 
Bible looks so different from yours?” 

“You have used it so much more,” said 
Louise, slowly. 

“Yes, darling; and this almost shabby Bible 
is more precious to me than the most costly one 
you could buy. It is full of sweet paths where 
I have walked many, many times with the dear 
Saviour; where I must walk daily if I would 
keep close to his side in the only way which 
can make our lives acceptable to him. Nothing 
could make me happier than to know that you, 
too, Louise, love these paths, and are learning 
to know them from frequent travelling over 
them.” 

Again some one came running up the stairs. 

“It is Mark,” exclaimed Louise, springing 
up. “I’ll run av/ay to my room for a little 
while — and — and let me stay here with you to- 
day, won’t you ? ” 

“Why surely, dear, you do not need to ask 
that.” 


319 


Beauty's Arrival. 

Louise laughed. 

‘‘Why, of course not, only you know I am 
visiting over at Auntie Jean’s this month.” 

“ So you are. If you hke, I will write her a 
note asking her to excuse you.” 

“Oh! please do, sister. I’d so much rather 
not go back until — until every bit of the 
naughty is gone.” 

She laughed again in her own bright way and 
vanished through one door as Mark entered by 
another. 

“Oh!” he cried, with a disappointed air as 
he glanced around the room, “ I thought Louise 
was here. Marcia told me she was. Mr. Keith 
wants her to come out and have a ride around 
the yard on Violet’s pony. It is a ‘Beauty,’ 
sure enough. Mamma. You can see from this 
window. Do you know where Louise is ? ” 

Mrs. Eliot stepped to the window and looked 
down at “Beauty,” whom Keith was slowly 
leading up and down before the house. Mac 
was at a little distance holding “Dandy’s” 
bridle. 

“ I think Louise had better not ride “ Beauty ” 
to-day, Mark. I will step down and speak to 
Mr. Keith.” 

“That’s too bad, mamma. She will be so 
disappointed.” 

“She will be quite willing to do as I think 


320 


Over at Little Acorns. 


best about it, I am sure, and there are plenty 
more days coming,” she said, smiling, as she 
slipped her hand through his arm. 

“ You are a regular witch, mamma,” said the 
tall lad, regarding her with loving admiration. 
“When you look at a body in that sweet, 
earnest way and smile at them so — so — I can’t 
think of any word that just expresses it, you 
simply fascinate them into doing whatever you 
wish, whether they are of the same mind or 
not!” 

Marcia laughed with much amusement at 
this unexpected tribute to her powers, and re- 
plied with merry pleasantry as they descended 
the broad stairs and walked across the porch. 
Keith, watching them and noticing the fond 
pride with which she looked into the manly 
face of her son, was also charmed with her 
“sweet, earnest way” and the smile for which 
Mark could find no adequate adjective. Hand- 
ing “Beauty’s” bridle to Mac he stepped across 
the close-shaven grass to meet them. 

“Please excuse Louise to-day, Mr. Keith. 
She will be delighted to ride with you some 
other time,” she said. 

“Yiolet is very anxious that Louise should 
discover every virtue of her beloved little horse, 
Mrs. Eliot,” replied Keith, “but we must do as 
you think best about it, of course. Mark, will 


Beauty's Arrival. 321 

jou help Mac with the horses? Tell James, 
Mac, to rub ‘Beauty’ down well.” 

The boys and the horses disappeared behind 
the shrubbery, and Keith walked by Marcia’s 
side back to the house. 

“ I hope Violet has done nothing to wound 
Louise’s feelings this morning, Mrs. Eliot,” he 
asked, with some solicitude. “ She has had 
very little restraint of any kind, unfortunately, 
and is entirely unused to companions of her 
own age. I have just had occasion to reprove 
her for a bit of thoughtlessness.” 

“ Violet has done nothing consciously, I am 
sure, but she is nevertheless the source of 
Louise’s unhappiness. I have been afraid ever 
since I came home that the dear child might be 
spoiled by us all; but her nature seemed so 
thoroughly sweet that no harm appeared to 
come from her having the first place in so 
many of our hearts. Now, to her bewilderment 
and distress, she finds that Mac has thoughts 
and eyes only for Violet, and she cannot easily 
adjust herself to this. She is a child of strong 
affections, and Mac, as we all know, is the one 
dearest to her ; but she has a keen sense of 
justice, Mr. Keith, and is, I believe, trying ear- 
nestly to conquer this weakness in the only 
true way. She loves Violet dearly, too, and I 
feel certain that by degrees she will entirely 
21 


322 


Omr at Little Acorns, 


overcome the miserable jealousy which has 
spoiled this beautiful morning for her.” 

Keith thought of the morning on which he 
first saw Louise. 

“I am sure of it, too,” he said, heartily. 
“Louise has many noble qualities. She will 
make a splendid Christian with her unswerving 
fidelity and her frank, straight-forward nature.” 

“ I get impatient sometimes to see all these 
dear children professing Christians. I believe 
they all love Christ and are trying in their dif- 
ferent ways to obey his teachings ; but they are 
losing so much of the sweetness and comfort 
which comes only from active, open service in 
his name.” 

“In the Lord’s own time, dear friend. We 
can afford to leave all our precious treasures in 
such hands as his.” 


CHAPTEE XXXIV. 

SEEKING NEW PATHS. 

“Show me thy ways, O Lord; teach me thy paths.” — 
Psalm XXV. 4. 

M ac and Violet had gone about half-way 
to Standish on a hard gallop, when an 
abrupt turn in the road brought them suddenly 
face to face with Mr. Keith, who, having seen 
Beauty set out for ‘‘ Little Acorns ” under Mac’s 
care, and having attended to a few errands, 
was leisurely driving homeward. 

To say that he was amazed at the sight of 
Violet, in her muslin dress and broad, flapping 
straw hat, racing headlong over the highway, 
is to put it very mildly. For the first time in 
their acquaintance he was seriously displeased 
with Mac, whom, at the first glance, he held 
responsible for this breach of propriety. All 
three had pulled up their horses at the instant 
of meeting. Keith sprang from his buggy and 
came to Beauty’s side. 

‘‘Give me your hand, Violet. You will go 
home with me in the buggy,” he said, more 
sternly than she had ever heard him speak. 

A quick color, which was not from the exer- 
cise of riding, flew over her face, and she flashed 
B23 


324 


Over at Little Acorns. 


a mutinous glance at him from beneath her 
long lashes. But, after a moment’s hesitation, 
she put her hand in his and sprang to the 
ground. 

“ Come after us slowly, Mac. The horses are 
wet,” said Keith, after assisting Violet into the 
buggy and seating himself beside her. For 
some distance he drove in silence, his usually 
serene face much troubled. 

“Mac should have known better!” he ex- 
claimed at last, with a decided ring of impa- 
tience in his voice. 

“It wasn’t Mac’s fault. Cousin Keith,” said 
Violet, quickly. “He had to come when I 
started.” 

Keith turned towards her in surprise. The 
lovely blue eyes met his frankly. 

“You should not have done such a thing, 
Violet.” 

“ But why may I not ride my pony. Cousin 
Keith?” 

“You may do so in a proper way.” 

“Mac was with me, and we rode together 
often at home, and you never thought it was 
wrong then.” 

He looked over her costume significantly. 

“Oh! you mean that I should wear my habit 
and gloves and everything like that ? ” she 
asked, carelessly. “I couldn’t possibly wait to 


325 


Seeking New Paths. 

put them on, when I hadn’t seen Beauty for 
three whole weeks,” she declared, with such a 
charming conclusiveness that Keith, in spite of 
his annoyance, was obliged to repress a smile. 
“Besides, what difference did it make? We 
didn’t meet a soul — but you ! ” 

Here a roguish little smile accompanied the 
laughing little glance which she gave him ; but 
she received no smile in return. 

“You would have been in Standish in five 
minutes ; for I judge that you had little idea of 
stopping when I met you,” he said gravely. 

“No; that is true. Cousin Keith. We were 
having too glorious a ride to think of stopping 
then. If you had been dying for a ride for 
days and days, and then all of a sudden should 
see your darling horse right before you, on a 
perfect September morning, I am sure that you 
would not think of your clothes.” 

“But young ladies should always remember 
what is fitting,” said Keith, resolutely looking 
out of his own side of the buggy, and steeling 
his heart against her pretty pleading in her 
own defence. 

He was quite startled by the vehemence of 
her reply to this bit of counsel. 

“ But I’m not a young lady ! I don’t want to 
be a young lady ! I’m not going to be a young 
lady ! I’m just your little Cousin Yiolet, and — 


326 


Over at Little Acorns. 


I’m sorrj if I did wrong — and won’t you please 
forgive me, and not be cross with me any more ? 
You are not half so nice when you are cross, 
Cousin Keith.” 

There was no resisting this, and peace was 
made at once, although Keith could hardly tell 
whether mischief or penitence was most plainly 
expressed on the dimpling, demurely-arch face 
beside him. 

“And you won’t scold Mac, please?” she 
begged. 

“No, Violet; but I shall tell him that he 
must take better care of you in the future.” 

She broke into a peal of merry laughter. 

“You don’t know how funny that sounds — 
no, not funny — but queer — odd. Just as though 
I were a baby, or a china tea-set, or something 
like that! Papa never used to take care of me, 
and I’m not broken, or even cracked.” 

She looked up at him in such a comical way 
that he could not help smiling, although her 
reference to her careless, pleasure-loving father 
saddened him. 

“ That is true enough, Violet ; but you have 
not now your great home estate to roam over 
at pleasure, and these people here have not 
known and loved you all your life ; and so you 
must let us take care of you, dear, just as we 
do of Louise and Marcia and Helen, and be- 


327 


Seeking New Paths, 

lieve that all which may seem to you as a re- 
straint is done in love, for your best good and 
happiness.” 

“I will, Cousin Keith,” she said, readily. 
“And now I’ll tell you what I am going to do 
for a rememberer. I suppose, though, that you 
don’t know what a ‘rememberer’ is. When I 
was a little girl, Mrs. Barbara was my nurse, 
and I used often to be naughty to her. Then, 
when I was good again, I always did something 
I didn’t wish to do, to help me to remember 
not to be naughty any more. You understand, 
don’t you. Cousin Keith?” 

“Perfectly,” answered Keith, both amused 
and touched by this naive confidence. 

Violet glanced quickly up at his serious face. 

“Ah ! now you are laughing at me ; but you 
won’t laugh when I tell you this ‘ rememberer,’ 
for it is such a terribly hard one. I am going 
to let Louise ride on Beauty.” 

She sank back in the buggy, and covered her 
face with her hands. 

“Why is it so hard, Violet?” Keith asked, 
gently. 

“Because no one has ever been on her back, 
and I have always said no one else should ride 
her,” she answered him, with quivering lips. 

“Suppose you take a rememberer this time 
that is not so hard,” he suggested after a long 


328 Over at Little Acorns. 

silence, during which they reached “Little 
Acorns.” 

The eyes which now met his were wet with 
tears, but she smiled very sweetly as she said, 
“No, Cousin Keith; I am going to show you 
that I am truly sorry. Be sure to have Louise 
come out, and go with her yourself on Dandy, 
will you? ” 

“Yes, Yiolet, I will, with pleasure.” 

As he helped her to alight he wondered 
whether she were most of woman or of child, 
this beguiling, bewildering, charming and alto- 
gether lovable Yiolet he had transplanted to 
his home and his heart. 

As she entered the house she heard voices, 
and following them came to the large, sweet - 
smelling pantry where Janet and Marcia were 
deep in the mysteries of spice cakes; Janet 
with her sleeves rolled high up on her round, 
white arms and a snowy apron tied around her 
waist; Marcia nearly covered by a capacious 
blue and white gingham “tier.” 

“Won’t you come in, dear?” asked Janet, 
smiling, and concealing the concern she felt at 
the flushed cheeks and reddened eyes of the 
girl who stood in the doorway looking at them 
wistfully. 

“Thank you, no. Cousin Janet. I’ve been 
a bad girl, and am going upstairs to repent.’^ 


Seeking New Paths. 


329 


Before Janet could reply to this she felt a 
pair of arms clasp her closely about the neck 
and the pressure of soft lips on her fore- 
head. Something else lay there, too, as Violet 
vanished from the room. It was a tear, and 
it carried its message of regret and resolve 
straight from the impulsive, loving, undis- 
ciplined heart of the girl to the gentle, com- 
passionate one which yearned over her with so 
much tenderness. 

Violet had not been in her room a great 
while before there was a light tap on her door, 
and on opening it she saw Louise. 

“ Oh ! ” she cried, starting back involuntarily, 
‘‘ I didn’t think you would be through so 
soon.” 

“Through with what? I’ve been home talk- 
ing with sister, and I came over here to get my 
Bible to. learn how to find paths in it as sister 
does. Won’t you — wouldn’t you like to bring 
your Bible and learn, too ? ” 

Violet looked a moment into the sweet, bright 
face of her new friend. She saw that her eyes, 
also, bore traces of tears. 

“Have you been crying, too, Louise?” she 
asked, putting her arm about her and drawing 
her into the room. “I’m so sorry! But didn’t 
you have a good ride on Beauty ? ” 

“I! On Beauty!” exclaimed Louise, with 


330 Over at Little Acorns. 

tlie greatest astonishment. “Why, what do 
you mean, Violet?” 

“Didn’t Cousin Keith find you? He pro- 
mised me that he would. It’s too bad ; but 
you shall have it some other time, because it 
is my rememberer.” 

Again Louise looked mystified, and Violet 
told her the whole story of her ride out and 
her ride home. 

“ I really didn’t mean to do anything out of 
the way, Louise, and I have been feehng dread- 
fully to displease him. I think he is such a 
kind and lovely cousin, don’t you ? ” 

“Of course he is lovely, you funny girl; how 
could he be anything else,” laughed Louise, 
who had forgotten all her jealousy of Violet. 
“ But come, sister is waiting for us. Where is 
,your Bible? ” 

“I haven’t any,” was Violet’s unexpected 
reply, at which Louise couldn’t help being 
shocked. “Won’t my prayer-book do?” 

“I — I — guess so,” responded Louise, with a 
somewhat doubtful glance at the daintily-bound 
volume Violet took from her trunk and handed 
to her. “ Oh, yes ; here are the Psalms,” she 
went on as she turned over the pages. “No, 
it says ‘Psalter.’ Do you suppose that is the 
same thing, only spelled differently? We’ll 
take it over and ask sister.” 


Seeking New Paths, 


331 


When they entered her room, they found 
her writing a note. 

“Is that to Auntie Jean, sister?” 

“Yes, dear. You wish me to write it, do 
you not ? ” 

Louise blushed. 

“Never mind, now, sister. I ran over there 
for my Bible — and — and I’m going back when 
we find our verses.” 

“That is right, darling,” said Marcia, kissing 
the now happy face, and tearing the note into 
bits. “ I am glad to see you, Violet. Have you 
come to seek out some pleasant paths, too ? ” 

“ Yes, Mrs. Eliot. Louise asked me to come, 
but I don’t exactly know what she means — and 
— I have only my prayer-book,” said Violet, 
somewhat shyly. 

“There are many beautiful paths in your 
prayer-book, dear ; but you will be able to find 
them the first time more easily from a Bible, 
because of the references. Having done this 
you can mark them in your prayer-book, if you 
like. Louise, will you step into Marcia’s room 
and bring her Bible for Violet? ” 

“What are all these little red letters in the 
margin for, sister?” Louise asked, as she 
opened the pretty volume. 

“ Those are the way-marks along some paths 
my little girl has been finding out lately.” 


332 


Over at Little Acorns. 


‘‘Why, I didn’t know — she began, then 
stopped, blushing. 

“ You didn’t know Marcia was trying to be a 
Christian? She is very shy about it, as you 
have been, dear; but I am sure it will help us 
all to acknowledge our love for the dear Saviour 
to each other and to study his blessed word 
together. Now, we are ready, I think. You 
will find pens and red ink and pencils, if you 
wish them, in my desk. Suppose we turn first 
to the ninth Psalm, the ninth verse. Will you 
read it, Louise? Let me show you, Violet. 
See, here it is in the Psalter.” 

“ Is that the same as the Psalms, sister? ” 

“Yes, dear; the wording is slightly different 
from that of our Bible, which is of King James’ 
translation, but they are the same Psalms of 
David.” 

“ ‘ The Lord also will be a refuge for the op- 
pressed, a refuge in times of trouble,’” read 
Louise, slowly. 

“Now yours, Violet.” 

“ ‘The Lord also will be a defence for the op- 
pressed, even a refuge in due time of trouble.’ 
It is almost the same, is it not?” 

“Entirely so in meaning. Now, the way I do 
often is to mark a verse with a small red capital 
P, for path, and a number, say number 1, as 
this is your first path. Then I look up all the 


B33 


Seeking Neio Paths. 

references given with this verse in the margin 
and mark them in the same way ; very likely I 
may find other verses upon the same subject, 
and they also get the little red sign. This 
serves to recall the peculiar circumstances of 
their selection and to impress them on my 
memory. Would you like to do this, Louise?” 

“ Oh ! very much.” 

“Let me take your Bible, then, and I will 
mark this verse for you.” 

Mrs. Eliot took both their books to her desk 
and made the letters and figures daintily in the 
margins. 

“What is your first reference, Louise? ” she 
asked. 

“ It is the thirty-second Psalm, seventh verse. 
Here it is: ‘Thou art my hiding place; thou 
shalt preserve me from trouble ; thou shalt 
compass me about with songs of deliverance.’ 
Let me mark it this time, please, sister.” 

With great care she made the red P and the 
1 at the end of the verse. When Violet had 
finished hers, Louise exclaimed, “ Oh! see what 
beautiful letters Violet makes. They are just 
like engraving.” She carried the book to 
Marcia, who praised Violet’s work. 

“ Will you look up the next reference, dear ? ” 

After some little delay, Violet read : “ ‘ Psaim 
xlvi. 1 : God is our refuge and strength, a very 


334 


Over at Little Acoyms. 


present help in trouble.’ Now here it is in the 
prayer-book : ‘ God is our hope and strength, a 
very present help in trouble.’ Which do you 
think is the best, Mrs. Eliot?” 

I shall have to answer you as the little boy 
did when asked which he loved better, his 
father or his mother. ‘ I love them both best.’ ” 
There is only one more reference, sister,” 
said Louise. “It is the ninety-first Psalm, 
second verse : ‘ I will say of the Lord, he is my 
refuge and my fortress ; my God ; in him will I 
trust.’ That makes four verses from the first 
one.” 

“ I wish you would both write them down on 
a sheet of paper, after you have marked them. 
Give the chapter and verse, please.” 

When this was done, she read them aloud. 

“ ‘ The Lord also will be a refuge for the op- 
pressed, a refuge in times of trouble.’ 

“ ‘ Thou art my hiding place ; thou shalt pre- 
serve me from trouble ; thou shalt compass me 
about with songs of deliverance.’ 

“‘God is our refuge and strength, a very 
present help in trouble.’ 

“ ‘ I will say of the Lord, he is my refuge and 
my fortress ; my God ; in him will I trust.’ 

“Now, is not that a sweet and safe pathway 
in which to walk when we are attacked and 
oppressed and pursued by our enemies ? ” 


335 


Seeking New Paths. 

Louise’s quick glance of appreciation showed 
that she understood something of what this 
meant, but Violet looked perplexed. 

“I never have any enemies, Mrs. Eliot. No- 
body attacks me. What does that mean ? ” 

“Not human enemies, Violet, such as you 
study of in your history, but enemies of our 
hearts — selfishness, and wilfulness, and pride, 
and jealousy, and thoughtlessness ” 

Violet’s attentive face flushed at this last 
word. 

“Oh!” she cried, “did Cousin Keith tell 
you?” 

“No, dear; he has told me nothing; but I 
know all these old foes ‘by heart,’ as the chil- 
dren say,” said Marcia, smiling kindly, and 
putting her arm around Violet. “They come 
to each one of us, and try their best to con- 
quer us. That is why I wish so much that you 
and Louise should know where to flee for re- 
fuge and strength. There is only one who is 
able to defend us against these enemies. It 
will please me very much if you will both learn 
the verses of this first ‘path,’ and also where 
they are to be found. I am sure they will often 
help you.” 

“I know some of mine now,” said Louise. 
“Will you show us another path soon, sister? 
and may Marcia come, too?” 


336 


Over at Little Acoryis. 


There was, of course, but one answer to this 
question, and the girls bade her good-bje 
with light hearts. As they walked across the 
lawn Violet said: “I wish I had a sister, 
Louise.” 

The wistful tone went straight to Louise’s 
warm heart. 

“I wish you had, Violet. I know just how 
you feel, because I didn’t have sister until last 
winter. She displeased papa by her marriage 
before I was born, and didn’t come home all 
that time. I used to think that I couldn’t love 
any one better than I did Auntie Jean, but 
when my very own precious, darling sister came 
I found out the difference. I’ll — I’ll give you 
half of her, Violet,” she concluded, after the 
slightest possible hesitation. 

In a twinkling both of Violet’s arms were 
about her in a rapturous embrace, and half-a- 
dozen kisses were showered upon her. 

“You are the dearest, most generous girl in 
the whole world, Louise Standish. Do you 
think she will like it? And may I call her 
sister? ” 

Louise had not counted on quite so sudden 
and entire an acceptance of her gift, and for a 
moment there was a sharp struggle. Then she 
thought of Violet’s “rememberer,” and she de- 
cided that this should be hers. 


337 


Seeking New Paths, 

*‘Y-e-e-s, Violet; I am ^ure she will ” 

“Heigh, oh! there, you two,” called a hearty 
Toice, and Mac came over the fence with a 
hound. “Are you trying to be a statue, or 
what? ” 

“No, I was telling Louise what a darling she 
is,” said Violet, as they walked on together. 

“I am going to tell ,” but a soft hand 

came over her lips. 

“Please don’t, Violet, please. Ask her not 
to, won’t you, Mac ? ” 

“Well, I won’t now,” said Violet, before he 
could speak, “but some time I’ll ” 

She was interrupted by the appearance of 
Marcia on the veranda with a plate of hot spice 
cakes in her hand. 

“Auntie Jean says please to try them, and see 
if they are good,” she said, passing them around. 
Miss Janet soon joined the little group, and 
they spent a pleasant hour together. 


CHAPTEK XXXV. 


A PLEASAJVT FORENOON. 


“ Let in through all the trees 

Come the strange rays; the forest depths are bright; 
Their sunny-colored foliage in the breeze 
Twinkles, like beams of light.” 


— William GulUn Bryant. 


HE next morning, while they were still at 



1 the breakfast- table, Marcia came over 
to “Little Acorns,” with a queer mixture of 
pleasure and disappointment on her face. 

“Mamma says please can I spend the fore- 
noon with you. Auntie Jean?” 

“Why, certainly, dear. We shall be de- 
lighted to have you with us.” 

“And she wishes you would please keep 
Louise and Violet over here, too ; but Mac and 
Mark are going to help her, and I think it is 
not the least bit fair.” 

The cat was out of the bag now, and in such 
a funny way that they all laughed heartily. 
Marcia could not help laughing herself, in 
spite of her ruffled feelings. 

“You have my deepest sympathy, Miss 
Marcia,” said Keith, with suspicious gravity. 
“ Will you not accept a peach by way of con- 


338 


A Pleasant Forenoon. 339 

solation?” and he handed her a luscious 
Heath,” which he had just pared. 

“ Oh ! I have had my breakfast, thank you, 
Mr. Keith.” 

“ But you haven’t had this peach, I am very 
sure.” 

‘‘ Here is room, Marcia,” said Louise, moving 
her chair, “ and Ellen has brought you a plate 
and napkin. You’ll find that peach delicious, 
and you’d better eat it.” 

Marcia needed no further urging. She en- 
joyed the fine fruit, but she did not forget her 
grievance. 

“ Don’t you think mamma might let us help 
her. Auntie Jean? I just love to get ready for 
a tea-party.” 

“ But we are the company, Marcia. Who 
ever heard of the company getting the tea?” 
asked Violet. 

“You are, I know, but I am not. I am the 
hostess’ little girl.” 

“ So you are. Miss Marcia, and I, for one, 
am ready to see that you have your rights. 
Only speak the word, and 
‘ I’ll dare then 

To beard the mamma in her den, 

The Standish in her hall,’ ” 

declared Mr. Keith, drawing himself up to his 
full height, and looking very fierce. 


340 


Over at Little Acorns. 


‘‘O — O — O ! I didn’t mean that,'' cried Marcia, 
quickly, drawing a long breath and hardly know- 
ing whether or not he was in earnest. 

“Don’t let him frighten you with his non- 
sense, dear,” said Miss Janet. “ Take another 
peach, won’t you?” 

“No, thank you. Auntie Jean,” replied 
Marcia, still regarding Keith very earnestly. 
He had raised his eyebrows in the comical 
way he sometimes had and was looking down 
at her. 

“How would you like, then, to go with Yio- 
let and me out to the stables and give Beauty 
her morning lump of sugar?” 

“Oh! very much. And may Louise come, 
too ? ” 

“ Of course. It takes the whole family to 
perform this important ceremony. Are you 
ready. Mademoiselle Hilda?” 

“She will be in one moment, Mr. Keith,” 
said Ellen, carrying her off to have her hands^ 
and face washed. When she was brought back, 
as fresh and sweet as a rose, Keith put her on 
his shoulder and they headed the little proces- 
sion, which strolled out to Beauty’s comfort- 
able quarters. 

When she had been patted and petted by 
them all, and had crushed several lumps of 
sugar between her white teeth, Keith untied 


A. Pleasant Forenoon, 


341 


lier halter and gave it to Violet. Then he 
seated Hilda on Beauty’s smooth white back 
and held her there while the pretty pQny was 
led slowly around the yard. The wee lassie 
thoroughly enjoyed this novel experience, and 
handled very skillfully the long lock of snowy 
mane which Keith put into her dimpled 
hands. 

“ Gee — ap, do ! gee — ap,” she cried, pulling 
stoutly at her lines, but her gentle steed 
seemed to know what a precious burden she 
carried and stepped all the more sedately. 

“ Let me put the saddle on and give the girls 
a ride, won’t you, Cousin Keith?” Violet asked 
him, softly, when Hilda had been put down on 
the grass at Janet’s side. She blushed at the 
significant look he gave her. 

“Yes, I really mean it,” she said, going close 
to him and stroking Beauty’s neck. “I know 
how dearly I should love it if I were in their 
places. Won’t you, please ? ” 

He answered her by going into the stable 
and bringing out the saddle, which they began 
to buckle on. 

“You are not selfish with your horse now, 
Violet,” he said, smiling. 

“Oh! yes, I am, inside,” she replied, quickly, 
with frank candor. “ But I am trying to conquer 
this old enemy. Mrs. Eliot showed me a lovely 


342 


Over at Little Acorns. 


verse in my prayer-book the other day. Cousin 
Keith, why do people have so many enemies?” 

“ Some other time, dear Violet, I will gladly 
tell you. I can only say now that it makes me 
very happy to know that you are learning to 
control the selfish impulses of your heart in the 
only way sure of success. Now, I believe we 
are ready.” 

Louise and Marcia had been standing at a 
little distance, watching the saddling process 
with great interest and never dreaming of the 
treat in store for them. They were delighted 
enough when they were called and each took a 
turn around the yard. Marcia was rather 
timid, but Louise sat admirably and showed 
herself a born horsewoman. 

“ She must have a pony of her own,” Keith 
said to Janet, as he observed her management 
of Beauty. “I thought of speaking to Mr. 
Standish about it last spring. I’d like to take 
her outside now. Can you find her some 
sort of a riding- skirt, Jeanie, while I saddle 
Dandy?” 

So it came about that almost before she 
realized it, Louise was riding slowly up the 
shady quarry road with Keith. 

“I was never so happy in my life before,” 
she declared, enthusiastically, “ I feel as though 
I had wings.” 


A Pleasant Forenoon, 


343 


Keith laughed. 

“I wonder how you will feel when you have 
learned to single-foot and trot and gallop.” 

“Oh! it isn’t that I am going so fast, but 
without any effort of my own, away up here in 
the air. Violet is so kind to let me ride on her 
beauty of a Beauty, isn’t she? How far are 
we going, Mr. Keith ? ” 

“ Are you tired ? ” 

“ Not the least bit. The motion is so gentle, 
hke a cradle.” 

“I wonder if you really remember what the 
motion of a cradle is like. Miss Lucinda?” 

A laughing flash of her eyes answered him 
before her words. 

“ I’ll go up in the attic and try mine when I 
get home to be perfectly sure, if you wish,” she 
said, demurely. 

“ I think I’ll have to take your word for it, 
this time. How would you like to go as far as 
the chapel? You have not been there since 
you came home, have you ? ” 

“No, Mr. Keith, and I should like to go now 
very much. Mac said he would bring us this 
afternoon.” 

“ Has Mac told you that he is going to unite 
with our little church on the hillside when it is 
finished?” 

“Why, no, Mr. Keith. Is he? I haven’t 


344 


Over at Little Acorns, 


had a good talk with Mac since he came home. 
He is with Yiolet all the — ” 

She stopped suddenly and her cheeks grew 
hot. The words had slipped out before she 
thought, and with them for a moment came the 
old jealousy. With all her might she choked it 
back. 

‘"The Lord is my refuge in times of trouble,’* 
she whispered over and over in her heart. And 
then came the thought that she was on Yiolet’s 
horse, and a quick instinct of what was honor- 
able and loyal helped her in the struggle, during 
which her eyes were resolutely bent upon the 
horn of her saddle and her face was aflame. 

Keith’s sympathetic eye read the whole story 
and he was pleased to see that gradually the 
bright expression returned to her face and the 
smile to her lips. He went on then as though 
she had finished h^r sentence. 

“Yes, Mac made up his mind on the steamer 
going over to profess his loyalty to the Master this 
fall ; and something of which he will probably 
tell no one, but which you shall know some day, 
happened up here while we were away which 
decided him to join this little church rather 
than the one in Standish which your family 
attends.” 

They rode on in silence until the grey walls 
•of the chapel could be seen through the trees. 


A Pleasant Forenoon. 


345 


“ How lovely it is,” exclaimed Louise, as they 
stopped before it. 

“/How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord 
of hosts.’ Let us sit here for a while,” said 
Keith, when they had ridden around the beau- 
tiful building. “Beauty can get a mouthful of 
grass while you are resting and I am telling 
you of Mac.” 

Louise’s heart beat quickly with love and 
pride as she listened to the story of “My Andy.’’ 

“ Wasn’t that splendid of Mac, Mr. Keith?” 

“ It shows how fully he allows the Spirit of 
Christ to control his actions, for no one can be 
brave and true and noble in his own strength.” 

“I know that,” she assented, with a little 
sigh. 

“I wish so much that you, too, would come 
out on the Lord’s side when Mac does, Louise,” 
said Keith, gently, after a while. “I am sure 
you are really trying to serve him, are you not ? ” 

“I was — but — but ” 

“But you fail sometimes and become dis- 
couraged and think it is all of no use ? Is that 
it?” 

“Yes, Mr. Keith.” 

“Do you remember once when Mac felt 
just that way? Suppose he had given up 
then.” 

“Oh! but, Mr. Keith, Mac never was as 


346 


Over at Little Acorns. 


naughty as I am. I — oh! — I can’t tell you 

about it, but sister knows — and — and ” 

‘‘Are you going to wait until you can be a 
good girl all the time before you acknowledge 
your Saviour, Louise? ” 

She flashed a look of indignant denial up at 
him. 

“Oh! you know I am not. It isn’t just 
that — but — but ” 

“ Yes, I do know it, my dear little girl,” said 
Keith, very tenderly, “and I believe all this 
burden of unworthiness and doubt will roll off 
your heart the moment you decide to yield 
yourself wholly to him who loves you and 
forgives you, and is every hour near to guide 
and guard you. Oh ! Louise, I am so anxious 
that you should know the full joy of his service, 
for it is the only lasting happiness. You are 
young yet and your bright life has known few 
clouds. But even you have found that trials 
come and that human love cannot provide a 
way of escape from them. It is the love of 
Christ alone that is as an anchor to the soul, 
sure and steadfast. It lifts us above ourselves, 
Louise, into an atmosphere free from selfish- 
ness and bitterness of spirit; it teaches our 
hearts to be gentle, charitable, loving, patient, 
merciful, tender. Can you wonder that I long 
to see you open your heart and your fresh. 


A Pleasant Forenoon, 


347 


young life wholly to the beauty and gracious 
influence of this wonderful love ? ” 

Louise made no reply, and presently he 
brought Beauty around to a large stone from 
which she could mount. As they entered the 
^‘Little Acorns’” gate they saw Mr. Standish 
on the veranda at “ The Acorns.” 

“ Oh ! let me ride up to the house and show 
papa Violet’s horse,” said Louise. 

“ We will show him also how well his 
daughter can ride,” was Keith’s response. 
^‘Sit quite easily now, with your shoulders 
well back. That is right. Now, Beauty! keep 
up with Dandy 1 ” 

Dandy, in obedience to directions, quick- 
ened his pace, and the two came up to Mr. 
Standish in fine style. 

“ Why, bless me 1 Is it you, Louise ? I sup- 
posed, of course, it was Violet. When did you 
learn to sit on a pony’s back? ” 

‘‘ She took to it as naturally as a duck to 
water, Mr. Standish,” Keith replied for her. 
“ This is her first ride, and she has scarcely a 
fault.” 

Louise looked very pleased and happy as her 
father walked around her horse several times, 
scanning both its fair proportions and its rider’s 
glowing face with approval. 

‘‘Now let me see you ride to the gate and 
back, Madamoiselle,” he said. 


348 


Over at Little Acorns. 


It seemed as though Beauty knew that she 
was on parade and thoroughly enjoyed the 
occasion, ior she had never behaved more 
admirably. 

“Fine! fine! We must be hunting you a 
horse of your own, daughter,” Mr. Standish 
declared, as she drew rein at his side. 

“Oh, papa!” was her delighted exclamation. 

“How is it, Keith? Wouldn’t one to match 
her eyes be about the right thing? ” 

“Yes; I think nothing could be better for 
Miss Lucinda,” Keith said, after a careful 
survey of the dancing brown orbs. 

“Don’t be surprised, then, to find one in 
your Christmas stocking, little girl,” said her 
father. 

“Thank you, papa, a thousand times! No- 
thing else in the world will make me half as 
happy as a dear, little horse all my own,” ex- 
claimed Louise, overjoyed at the prospect. 

The horses’ heads were then turned towards 
“Little Acorns,” and very soon Beauty, free 
from bridle and saddle, was being fed with 
sugar from the hand of a very light-hearted 
friend. 


CHAPTEK XXXVL 
“Jf. 


“Polly put the kettle on, 

Polly put the kettle on, 

Polly put the kettle on, 

And we’ll all take tea.” 

— Nursery Rhyme. 

HEN Louise ran upstairs to take off her 



vv riding-skirt, she found Marcia helping 
Violet unpack her boxes, and feeling much elated 
in consequence. 

‘‘ Oh ! Violet,” she cried, giving her a hearty- 
kiss, ‘‘you don’t know how much I enjoyed it. 
We went up on the quarry road as far as the 
chapel, and coming back Mr. Keith let me — I 
mean let Beauty — trot a little way. It was 
fine ! I can’t thank you enough for giving me 
this ride.” 

“I knew you would enjoy it. You can’t 
imagine how unhappy I was at the thought 
of leaving her behind in England, for I never 
dreamed I could have her over here. Wasn’t 
Cousin Keith kind to bring her?” 

“Indeed he was! And so is my. papa. He 
was on the veranda at home when we came 
back, and I begged Mr. Keith to let me show 


349 


350 


Over at Little Acorns. 


Beauty to him ; so we rode over, and only 
think, Violet, he says he’ll give me a horse for 
Christmas. Isn’t that just delightful? I can 
hardly believe it.” 

“Oh! I am so glad. We can have such fine 
times riding together. And you may go, too, 
Marcia,” she added, catching sight of the little 
girl’s wistful face. 

“Why, certainly you can, Marcia,” assented 
Louise. “ I’ll lend you my pony, and oh 1 how 
happy we shall all be. I wish it would be 
Christmas to-morrow. Now, let me help you 
with these things.” 

“They are nearly all in order. Cousin Janet 
and Ellen have both been at work, and Marcia, 
too. She is a real little jewel of a helper.” 

Marcia blushed with pleasure at this compli- 
ment from Violet, whom she greatly admired. 

“I do enjoy this desk so much, Louise,” 
Violet went on, as she put a box of writing 
paper into one of the drawers. 

“I was sure you would when Auntie Jean 
and I selected it. I was so glad when I found 
the stamp-box, and pencil-case, and blotting- 
pad, with dear little violets on their silver backs. 
They told me in ever so many places that we 
would not find them; but I just kept on hunt- 
ing, for I felt that nothing else would do for 
this room.” 


“j[f. q : 


351 


“Aunt Violet’s picture is in that large, flat 
box. I’ll tell you about her some time, Louise.” 

“Oh! I know now. There is a lovely little 
picture of her down in the library. Auntie 
Jean showed it to me one day when I asked 
her how you looked.” 

“Did she? I’d like to see it. Cousin Janet 
said that Cousin Keith would open this box, 
but don’t you think we can ? ” 

“ I’m afraid,” began Louise, doubtfully. “ Oh t 
there’s Mac. I’ll call him.” 

Running to the head of the stairs she called, 
“Mac! Mac! Won’t you come up here, and 
bring a hammer with you?” 

“Shall I, Auntie Jean?” he asked Miss 
Janet, who had come out to meet him. 

“ If you will. There is a picture of Violet’s 
to be hung.” 

With great care he opened the box and re- 
moved the large portrait from its wrappings. 
It proved to be too heavy for him to lift alone, 
and he was about to run down for the gardener 
to assist him when a light knock was heard, and 
they saw Keith standing in the doorway. 

“May I not lend a hand in all this pretty 
work. Cousin Violet?” 

Mac answered for her. 

“I think you’ll have to lend us two hands 
Mr. Keith ; this is very heavy.” v 


352 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“ Where is the wire ? ” 

“Here it is,” said Yiolet, taking the shining 
coil from its wrapper. 

In a few minutes Yiolet Kothsay’s lovely face 
looked down upon the little group. 

“I am glad you have it here, Yiolet,” said 
Keith, after a long survey of the girlish features. 
“ She made every one around her happy during 
her brief life. Try to be like her.” 

He placed his hand lovingly on her golden 
head as he spoke, and she made a silent resolve 
to be a better girl than ever before. 

“Now what else can I do for you?” he in- 
quired, glancing around the somewhat disor- 
dered room. 

“Nothing, thank you; Cousin Janet is going 
to send some one to take away these boxes and 
papers.” 

“ Then I will give you an invitation which 
has been entrusted to me. Mr. Standish thinks 
it will be pleasant to get out the large carriages 
and to drive into Standish for our guests. If 
agreeable to you, he will have them around at 
two o’clock.” 

This invitation was at once unanimously ac- 
cepted. 

“But can you go, Mac?” inquired Marcia, 
whose thoughts still clung to the fact of her 
banishment. 


Qr 


353 


‘‘ Oh ! yes ; I forgot to tell you that the quar- 
antine is lifted, and that you can all conie over 
whenever you like. It didn’t take Mark and 
me as long as we thought it would to — caught 
myself up just in time, didn’t I, pussy?” he 
exclaimed, giving Marcia’s long yellow braid a 
gentle pull. 

‘‘Oh! is it a secret? How lovely! I never 
thought of that! Can’t you give us just the 
least little teensy, tawnsy bit of a hint?” she 
begged eagerly. 

“ Oh ! Marcia, that would spoil it all,” cried 
Violet. 

“Oh! no, it won’t! Just one word, Mac, 
can’t you? ” 

“Yes; I’ll tell the letters it begins with, and 
you won’t be a speck the wiser, for you can 
never guess what they stand for. ‘ M. Q.’ 
There! cogitate over them a while!” 

They all laughed at Marcia’s mystified face. 

“ ‘M. Q.’ — ‘M. Q.’ — what can that mean!” 

“I’m not going to tell you another thing,” 
declared Mac, picking up the hammer, and 
starting for the door. 

“Oh! stay and have luncheon with us, won’t 
you, Mac ? ” asked Violet. “ It will soon be ready.” 

“ I thank you, Violet, but I must go over and 
keep Mark company. The M. Q.’s might get 
the better of him,” and he ran off laughing. 

23 


354 Over at Little Acorns. 

The sun was shining in level, golden rays 
across the lawn at “The Acorns” when the 
carriage-loads of merry young people arrived 
from Standish. Keith and Janet were already 
on the veranda, and Marcia and her father 
came forward to give the Norton cousins a 
hearty welcome. 

“Mamma sends her love. Cousin Marcia,” 
said Helen, with easy grace. “She is sorry 
not to be here, but she is very tired to- 
night. She is so anxious to get our house in 
order before school begins that she is doing 
more than she should.” 

“That is a way mothers have, Helen,” Mark 
remarked, with such a wise air that everybody 
laughed. “But I shall soon be big enough to 
carry mine off bodily and lock her up when 
she is refractory.” 

Marcia looked at her tall lad with a smile 
which betokened little fear of his superior 
muscle. 

“Don’t be too rash, my boy,” advised his 
grandfather. “You will have to grow a good 
many feet in height and width and depth be- 
fore you will be a match for your mother, and 
then you won’t be!” 

This Irishism brought a shout from them all, 
and Mark turned away, somewhat discomfited. 

“Where have the girls gone?” he asked. 


‘‘j/. Qr 


355 


Oh ! upstairs to take off their things ! Boys, 
how are your queues and ringlets? Perhaps 
you would like to primp a bit, too?” 

Alec put his hand carefully up to his smooth, 
shining locks, and gave his diminutive mous- 
tache a tender caress, while Charlie made an 
upward sweep across his thick pompadour, in- 
wardly groaning that his upper lip could boast 
of nothing more dignified than an infantile 
golden down. 

‘‘ We’re all right, thank you,” said Alec. 
“Here come the girls now. What a beauty 
Yiolet is ! Don’t you think so, Mac ? ” 

“And she is as good and sweet as she is 
pretty,” replied Mac, stepping quickly forward 
to prevent Alec’s joining her before he did. 

“Come, Yiolet,” he said to her, at once, “let 
me show you Uncle Mark’s green-houses and 
the grapery. His Black Hamburg vine is the 
finest one in the whole country about here.” 

“Suppose you wait until after tea,” whis- 
pered Marcia. “You remember that I wish to 
see you all in the library before we go to the 
dining-room.” 

In obedience to her summons, the whole 
party came in presently from the veranda and 
the lawn, and assembled in the library, where 
they were each given a large English walnut. 
Upon inspection, these proved to have been 


356 


Over at Little Acorns. 


opened and neatly hinged together by Mark 
deft fingers, thus forming tiny receptacles. In- 
side of each was a folded paper. 

‘‘Did you ever see such dear little boxes?” 
asked Louise, turning hers around and around. 
“Sister, can we read the papers now?” 

At the same instant supper was announced, 
and Marcia said : “ Now friends, please look at 
your quotations. You will find one-half of one 
on each slip. By matching theirs the ladies 
will provide themselves with partners who will 
escort them to the dining-room. Later there 
will be a guessing-match as to their authors, 
with a prize for the best and a forfeit for the 
poorest guess. Janet, dear, will you read 
first ? ” 

Miss Janet opened her slip. 

‘ ‘ The curfew tolls the knell of parting day 
The lowing herd winds slowly o’er the lea — ” 

There was an instant’s pause as every one 
looked down at their paper ; then Alec stepped 
forward, bowing gracefully as he recited : 

“ The plowman homeward plods his weary way, 

And leaves the world to darkness and to me.” 

He took his place at Janet’s side, and Marcia 
called on Yiolet. 

“None but the brave — ” 
she read out softly. 

“ Deserve the fair,” 


“if. Qr 


357 


came promptly from Mr. Standish’s lips, as witli 
a gallant bow lie crossed the room and drew 
Violet’s hand within his arm. 

“Helen.” 

Helen regarded her sentence rather dubi- 
ously and began it with heightened color : 

“ Maitre corbeau, sur un arbre perche, 

Tenait en son bee un from age. 

Maitre renard, par I’odeur alleche, 

Lui tint a peu pres ce langage : 

He! bonjour, Monsieur du corbeau, 

Que vous etes joli ! que vous me semblez beau ! 

Sans mentir, si votre ramage 
Se rapporte a votre plumage, 

Vous etes le phenix des botes de ces bois.” 

Her French was rather halting, but fairly in- 
telligible, and was responded to by Mark, who 
“ parley-vood like a native, as Charlie whis- 
pered to Louise. It was certainly with much 
smoothness and grace that he finished the quo- 
tation : 

“ A ces mots le corbeau ne se sent pas de joie; 

Et pour montrer sa belle voix, 

II ouvre un large bee, laisse tomber sa proie. 

Le renard s’en saisit, et dit: Mon bon monsieur, 

Apprenez que tout flatteur 

Vit aux depens de celui qui I’ecoute : 

Cette le9on vaut bien un fromage, sans doute. 

Le corbeau, honteux et confus. 

Jura, mais un peu tard, au’on ne I’y prendralt plus.’ 

“Am I supposed to be the raven and you 


358 


Over at Little Acorns. 


tlie fox? ” asked Helen, in pretended alarm, as 
Mark approached her and offered his arm. 

“I’ll not steal your cheese to-night, at all 
events,” he said, reassuringly. 

“Louise.” 

. After a glance at her lines, she looked around 
at the remainder of the group as if trying to 
make up her mind who would complete them. 
And when she had read : 

‘ ‘ Robert of Lincoln’s Quaker wife, 

Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings. 

Passing at home a patient life. 

Broods in the grass while her husband sings,” 

she was delighted to hear Mac chirp out in 
a comical way : 

“ Bob-o’-link! Bob-o’-link! 

Spink! spank! spink! 

Brood, kind creature; you need not fear 
Thieves and robbers while I am here. 

Chee! Chee! Cheel” 

She blushed rosy red as he came over to her 
saying, “Will you walk out to tea with me, my 
pretty little Quaker wife ? ” 

“ Marcia.” 

Marcia blushed, too, when she saw that her 
quotation was in Latin i but she read it off 
bravely : 

“ Mulier quaedam habebat gallinam, quae ei 
quotidie ovum pariebat aureum. Hinc suspi- 
cari coepit, illam auri massam intus celare, et 
gallinam occidit.” 


‘‘J/. Q. 


359 


To this Mr. Keith made immediate response, 
“Sed nihil in ea reperit, nisi quod in ahis 
gallinis reperiri solet. Itaque dum majoribus 
divitiis inhiabat, etiam minores perdidit.” 

“When did Marcia learn to read Latin?’* 
whispered Helen to Mark. “I couldn’t do 
that. What is it about? ” 

“ A hen that laid golden eggs. Marcia was 
brought up on Es — Oh! I forgot. We’re not 
to tell the authors yet.” 

“ Mine is this,” said Mrs. Eliot, reading her 
slip : 

“And children coming home from school, 

Look in at the door ; ” 

and it was, of course, Charlie who added, 

‘ ‘ They love to see the flaming forge 
And hear the bellows roar, 

And catch the burning sparks that fly 
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.’’ 

They two brought up the rear of the little 
procession, which then made its way to the 
dining-room and enjoyed the many good things 
awaiting them there. 

“Do you know now what ‘ M. Q.’ stands 
for?” asked Mac of Marcia, across the table. 

Marcia paused a moment in her enjoyment 
of an ice-cream robin. 

“‘M. Q.,’” she repeated, slowly. Then a 
bright smile broke through her look of per- 


360 


Over at Little Acorns. 


plexity. “ I had forgotten all about it. AVhy, 
^Matched Quotations,’ of course. Did you 
know, Louise? ” 

‘‘Mac has just been telling me. Have you 
thought of all the authors yet?” 

“Not all. I feel pretty sure, though, of every 
one but Yiolet’s, but I can’t remember which 
one of the English poets said that ‘none but 
the brave deserve the fair.’ ” 

“I know that,” said Louise. “We had it 
last week in our reading lesson. What puzzles 
me is, whether that French fable is from iEsop 
or La Fontaine.” 

“iEsop wasn’t a Frenchman, Louise,” volun- 
teered Charlie. 

“Of course not, but his fables might be 
translated.” 

“Yes, I suppose they might, but the ques- 
tion is, were they? ” 

“Let me suggest that you defer the discus- 
sion of that interesting question until some 
future time,” said Marcia, rising. “We have 
now to determine as to the authorship of the 
quotations and to award the prize and claim 
the forfeit.” 

They all returned to the library, and for a 
few minutes brains and pencils were busy. 
When the lists were completed they were 
handed over to Mac for judgment. He an- 


'jf. q : 


361 


nounced that there were but three entirely cor- 
rect, those of Mr. Keith, Alec, and Louise. 

‘‘How shall we decide which of them shall 
receive the prize ? ” asked Mrs. Eliot. 

“ Let them draw lots,” suggested Mr. Standish. 

So Mac produced three straws of unequal 
length, the shortest of which should be the 
lucky one. Amid breathless silence on the 
part of the audience, the drawing was made 
and the prize fell to Alec. He was then asked 
to read his list, which was as follows : 

Miss Janet’s quotation: Thomas Gray, from 
his “Elegy in a Country Churchyard.” 

Violet’s: John Dryden, from his “Ode for 
St. Cecilia’s Hay.” 

Helen’s: La Fontaine’s fable of “Le Cor- 
beau et le Renard.” 

Louise’s: William Cullen Bryant, from his 
“Robert of Lincoln.” 

Marcia’s : iEsop, fable of “ Mulier et Gallina.” 

Mrs. Eliot’s: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 
from his “ Village Blacksmith.” 

Marcia then made him very happy by the 
presentation of a beautiful copy of Bartlett’s 
“Familiar Quotations.” 

“Now for the forfeit,” cried Mark. “Violet, 
it falls to your lot, and we shall all hsten 
gladly to your recitation, which is the penalty 
to be paid.” 


362 Over at Little Acorns. 

“This is hardly fair to you, dear,” said 
Marcia, kindly, “ as you are not yet acquainted 
so well as the rest of us with our American 
writers.” 

“Oh! yes, it is,” replied Yiolet, good-na- 
turedly, “ and I know such a ‘cute’ little verse, 
as Marcia says.” 

She stepped forward and repeated : 

“ On Sintac tap, 

There is a cap, 

And in that cap 
There is a drap ; 

Take up the cap. 

Drink out the drap, 

And leave the cap 
On Sintac tap.” 

A quick round of applause greeted this unique 
rhyme. 

“ Where in the world did you find that, Yio- 
let,” asked Mac, “ and what does it mean ? ” 

“ Papa saw it cut in a stone on the top of 
Sintac mountain in South Scotland. This stone 
is in the form of a cap, and is always filled with 
water, with which travellers refresh themselves. 
No one knows exactly what the lines do mean, 
papa said.” 

“Write it down for me, won’t you, Yiolet?” 
asked Charlie. “I sometimes have to pay a 
forfeit myself, and this is a capital one.” 


CHAPTEK XXXVII. 


BMOWNIE. 


“As for us, our greatest pleasure was when we were 
saddled for a riding party; the master on Ginger, the mis- 
tress on me, and the young ladies on Sir Oliver and 
Merrylegs 

‘ ‘ I had the best of it, for I always carried the mistress ; 
her weight was little, her voice was sweet, and her hand 
was so light on the rein that I was guided almost without 
feeling it .” — Black Beauty. 



IHE next week found the “Double Quar- 


J_ tette,” as the “children” called them- 
selves, hard at work with their studies. For 
Alec and Mac it was the last year before enter- 
ing college, and they realized the value of 
every hour. Alec had decided upon the law as 
his profession, and his studies were, so far as 
possible, selected to that end. Mac, having 
as yet no special life-work in view, was finish- 
ing a thorough academic course, while Mark 
and Charlie entered together the second-year 
academic. 

Of the four girls, Louise and Marcia easily 
led in both ability and proficiency. They also 
entered the class with Mark and Charlie. 
Helen and Violet began the classical course. 

In fine weather, the four from “ The Acorns,” 


363 


364 


Over at Little Acorns. 


with Violet, walked the mile into Standish and 
back again, going daily to Aunt Kate’s for a 
substantial luncheon. On stormy days the 
large carriage was at their disposal. It would 
be difficult to tell which of the eight was the 
happiest during those golden October days of 
their first month at school after their long holi- 
day. Perhaps it was Violet; for to her thor- 
ough enjoyment of it all was added the spice 
of novelty. Her beauty and sweetness of dis- 
position soon made her a favorite with her 
companions, while her bright, quick way of 
taking hold of a subject pleased her teachers. 

“I didn’t know there were so many nice 
people in the world,” she confided to Mac, as 
they were walking home from school a little 
later than the others one afternoon. 

“No one could help being nice to you, 
Violet.” 

“Couldn’t they? ” she asked, with child-like 
frankness. “I am glad of it, for everything is 
so pleasant when people are kind. Where are 
we going? ” 

Mac had opened a gate into the Standish 
grounds which she had not noticed before. 

“I have something to show you, and it is 
shorter to go across the south end of the park. 
Did you know, Violet, that one of your an- 
cestors built ‘The Acorns,’ and patterned it 


Broionie, 


365 


after Sylvester Hall? I think his name was 
Hubert.” 

“Yes, Cousin Keith told me. My papa was 
Hubert Sylvester, too. There has always been 
one in the family until now. Some day I mean 
to go back to my old home. It is not sold, but 
only leased for five years. Cousin Keith says. 
By that time ” 

Mac was not pleased with this train of thought, 
and he interrupted it. 

“Excuse me, Violet, but I think you are not 
noticing those fine elms. They are my favor- 
ites of all trees, because they are both strong 
and graceful. But here we are at the stables,” 
he said, opening a small gate at the rear of 
some tidy-looking buildings. 

“Oh!” cried Violet, quickly, “has Louise’s 
horse come ? ” 

“You’re a real Yankee, if you are an Eng- 
lishman born,” laughed Mac. “I was going to 
surprise you. Bring out the new horse, will 
you, Jameson?” 

The groom disappeared within the stable 
and very soon came out leading a handsome 
little horse, who held her small, shapely head 
well, and who bestowed upon her new friends 
the brightest of glances from her soft brown 
eyes. Violet was by her side in a moment, pat- 
ting her satin-like skin, and establishing herself 


366 


Over at Little Acorns. 


upon a friendly footing in a way entirely ac- 
ceptable to her ponyship. 

“ She is as gentle as Beauty, and I can give 
her no higher praise than that. How happy 
Louise will be.” 

“Uncle Mark was anxious to get a thoroughly 
kind and well-broken horse, and he happened 
quite unexpectedly to hear of this one. He 
and Mr. Keith have been trying her for a week, 
and last night she was brought home. I wished 
your opinion, too, before Louise sees her. You 
know she has not been used to horses all her 
life as you have, and she may have trouble in 
managing her at first.” 

“ I can’t tell, of course, whether she has any 
serious faults unless I ride her or see her rid- 
den ; but she seems all right, and I know that 
she is of good stock. Her being bright bay, 
with black points, shows that. Louise will not 
have any trouble, I am sure. Cousin Keith 
told me that he never saw any one ride so well 
the first time. Where is she now ? ” 

“I asked Cousin Marcia to keep her at the 
house until three o’clock, so I could bring you 
out here. I believe that Uncle Mark is going 
to give her the horse this afternoon. You must 
all come over to enjoy her surprise, for she 
does not expect it until Christmas.” 

Just before sunset, Yiolet on Beauty, Mac 


Brownie. 


367 


on Dandy, and Mr. Keith on Prince, another 
of the horses from “The Acorns’” stables, rode 
up to the veranda where the Standish family 
were sitting. 

“What a lovely evening for a ride!” ex- 
claimed Louise, jumping up and running down 
to pull a handful of grass for Beauty. 

“That is exactly what we thought. Miss Lu- 
cinda. Won’t you join us?” 

“When my own little horse comes, thank 
you, Mr. Keith,” she answered, with her atten- 
tion all on Beauty. 

“Then you had better run in and get on 
your habit now, for, if I am not mistaken, she 
is right behind you, waiting for you to speak 
to her,” said Mr. Standish, by her side. 

Scarcely comprehending what her papa 
meant, she turned around, and nearly touched 
a soft, brown nose that evidently mistook her 
rosy cheek for a choice tidbit. For an instant 
her face was a study. Then she sprang for- 
ward with a glad cry. 

“Oh! papa! is it mine? Is it?” 

“Yes, daughter, she is yours.” 

“And do you really mean that I may ride 
her now?” was her next eager question. 

“If you can find anything to wear.” 

“Oh! I’ll wear a mackintosh, or a table- 
spread, or — anything! Can I, sister?” 


368 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“You’ll find something upstairs in your 
room, Louise ; but — ” 

Marcia’s words were lost, for Louise was al- 
ready flying up the broad stairway. A second 
later her cries of delight came floating back to 
the ears of the little group who had gathered 
around the new member of the family, and 
were admiring her enough to satisfy even her 
mistress, had she heard them. 

“Oh! sister! sister! come!” called Louise, 
excitedly, from her window. 

“I suppose she cannot get into her things 
fast enough alone,” laughed Marcia, as she 
obeyed the summons. 

Ten minutes later, a pretty vision appeared 
in the doorway. A round, young figure in a 
close-fitting riding-habit of brown cloth ; a ra- 
diant face beneath a small brown cap ; a pair 
of plump hands in long brown gauntlets ; a pair 
of brilliant brown eyes shining with happiness 
and joyous anticipation. 

As she ran lightly down the steps and seated 
herself in the saddle, Helen called out: “Oh! 
Louise, you must name your horse Brownie. 
She is all brown, and so are you. Don’t you 
remember that Ellen Montgomery, in The 
Wide, Wide World, named her horse ‘The 
Brownie,’ and we always thought it such a 
pretty name?” 


Brownie, 


369 


“Yes, Helen, and I like Brownie for my 
korse,” said Louise, bending over to caress the 
slender brown head. “ So you understand, do 
you, my dear little horse, that your name is 
Brownie ?” 

Brownie gave an intelligent neigh by way of 
answer. 

“Here is Haco, Louise,” said Mac, as the 
dog came bounding across the grass. “ I won- 
der how he’ll like his new companion.” 

“Oh! they will be good friends, I know. 
Come here, Haco. Haco, this is my horse. 
Brownie ; Brownie, this is my dear doggie, 
Haco.” 

Brownie looked down, and Haco looked up, 
and it was taken for granted by all concerned 
that silence gave both consent and seal to the 
compact of their friendship. 

Then Keith brought his horse around to 
Brownie’s side, Mac and Violet started on 
ahead, and Louise made the acquaintance of 
her new treasure in the most pleasant way 
possible. 


24 


CHAPTEK XXXVIII. 


A QUIET TALK. 


“ Straight is the line of duty ; 
Curved is the line of beauty ; 
Follow the one and thou shalt see 
The other ever following thee.” 


— Unknown. 



ISS JANET was very happy these days. 


IV I To know that Keith’s home was perma- 
nently at Little Acorns ” and that she might 
help him in his work among the qnarry people ; 
to have darling little Hilda, who grew more lov- 
ing and more lovable every day, as her own ; and 
to feel that Yiolet untrained and faulty, but thor- 
oughly sweet and true at heart, was fast learn- 
ing to yield her capricious will to the gentler 
influences of a Christian home, such as she had 
never known, filled her cup and her heart full 
to overflowing. Besides all this, she knew that 
she was dearly loved by the whole family at 
“The Acorns,” who considered her and hers as 
really a part of their home circle. 

But it was Mac who gave her the most loyal 
allegiance and who poured out to her alone all 
his joys and all his sorrows. For even Mr. 


370 


A Quiet Talk. 


371 


Keith, deeply as he was loved by Mac, did not 
know him quite as ‘'Auntie Jean” did. To the 
boy, who never, during his whole life, ceased 
to long for his gentle mother, she was the em- 
bodiment of what that mother would have been. 
Few days passed which did not find him at 
some hour of the twenty-four stretched on the 
rug at her feet or sitting near her. Oftener 
than not his head was on her lap with her 
fingers pushing themselves lovingly through his 
hair. Sometimes he did not speak at all ; some- 
times he talked of his school work, growing en- 
thusiastic over a problem which he had taxed 
all his powers, but had been solved at last, or 
marvelling at the riches of knowledge awaiting 
his possession; sometimes with kindling eye 
and softened tone he spoke of the higher work 
he was beginning to find so sweet. 

On one such occasion she said to him, 
“Mac, why have you never told me about 
Andy Graham?” 

He blushed deeply. 

“ Oh! I couldn’t. Auntie Jean ; but I am glad 
you know, for Andy is getting to be such a 
splendid fellow. I go up there often and teach 
him as well as I can. He never would study 
after he was a little boy, and there are so many 
things that he is anxious to know about. But 
the best of it all is that he is so strong for the 


372 


Over at Little Acorns. 


right. He has already persuaded half-a-dozen 
of the men to leave off spending their evenings 
at a drinking place over in the woods, and to 
get together at his house and read and study. 
Mr. Keith thinks that we can have a night- 
school up there this winter. I wish — I wisli 
you would let me drive you up to see Andy 
and his father some pleasant afternoon. Will 
you?” 

“ With pleasure, Mac. I have been wishing 
to know Andy ever since his conversion. Robert 
is an old friend of mine. Have they a com- 
fortable home ? ” 

“ It is a snug little house, but I think almost 
everything they may have had beyond the abso- 
lute necessities of living were sold by Andy for 
liquor. But he is saving his money now, and 
the place already looks more tidy. You will 
think it bare enough.” 

“Would Andy let us take possession for a 
day, do you think? ” 

Mac’s face lighted up and he kissed the hand 
he was holding against his cheek. 

“ He ought to, if you wish it ; but he is a 
proud fellow, auntie, and I don’t know. He 
wouldn’t let Mr. Keith give him a coat last 
week. He said, ‘If I’d lost my money any 
other way I’d take it gladly ; but I must earn 
every penny of this debt to the devil myself. 


A Quiet Talk, 


373 


When I am square again o’ that, I can look ye 
in the face, man to man.’ ” 

“ I admire that spirit, Mac ; but I think I can 
manage to gain my point. He will scarcely re- 
fuse a gift to his father.” 

“ No ; I am sure of that. And I think he 
could hardly refuse a gift to himself from you. 
Shall we go to-morrow ? ” 

“ To-morrow will be Saturday. Yes ; I can 
go late in the afternoon and we will see what is 
needed.” 

Mr. Keith told me this morning that the 
chapel will be finished next week, and he hopes 
to have it dedicated the last Sunday in October. 
I have decided to join the church there then, 
Auntie Jean.” 

‘‘You don’t need me to tell you how happy 
that decision has made us all, do you, Mac ? ” 
He returned her smile with one equally as 
bright. 

“I knew you would be glad. At first I 
thought I would rather unite with the church 
in Linchester, our old home, where mamma 
and papa belonged and where I was baptized, 
but papa is away from there almost all the 
time, and I shall be here this year and then in 
college four years more ; so I concluded I would 
rather belong in this little church with you and 
Mr. Keith. And then when Andy Graham be- 


374 


Over at Little Acorns. 


came a Christian I felt more strongly than 
ever in regard to it. I think Uncle Mark and 
Cousin Marcia will take letters from the church 
in Standish to the Little Acorns Mission. They 
have been talking of this for some time. Uncle 
Mark’s only objection has been that his going 
up there might give the mission the appearance 
of a ‘ one-man-church,’ which is something he 
hates; but I am sure Mr. Keith can arrange 
things so this need not even seem to be so.” 

“Undoubtedly he can. He was telling me 
that there are already twenty-three on the 
church roll at present as members, and fifteen 
who will unite at the first communion. Of these, 
eight bring letters from other churches and are 
mostly from the new settlement, and five, besides 
Andy and yourself, come on profession. That 
is a good beginning for the little church, is it 
not?” 

“It is, indeed, auntie, and almost every one 
has come through Mr. Keith’s infiuence. What 
a grand life that must be ! I do not wonder he 
always seems so happy and has such a sweet, 
serene look on his face. I often wonder when 
I see him preaching whether he does not look 
a little bit like Christ. I always think of him 
as having the same gentle, loving expression 
and quietly authoritative manner.” 

“ It says of a man in the Bible, ‘ as he 


A Quiet Talk. 


375 


thinketh in his heart, so is he.’ If one has the 
spirit of the Master constantly in his heart and 
life, he will surely grow to be like him in some 
measure. One’s dominating spirit is like a 
city set on a hill j it cannot be hid. You know 
the Bible also says, ‘even a child is known by 
his doings.’ ” 

“ Mr. Keith is surely known by his. The men 
up at the quarry think there never was a man to 
compare with him. He can do almost any- 
thing with them. I often wish I could ever be 
good enough to lead just such a life as he 
does.” 

These last words were very quietly spoken, 
but they came from the centre of his heart. A 
quick instinct told Miss Janet this. She bent 
and softly kissed his forehead, and said : “ ‘ My 
flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the 
strength of my heart and my portion forever.’ 
‘ Commit thy way unto the Lord ; trust also in 
him and he shall bring it to pass.’” 

Mac did not reply, nor did he allude to the 
subject again for a long time, but in after life 
he looked back to that hour as the one in which 
he really decided to give his life wholly and 
unreservedly to the service of Christ. 

•The visit to Andy’s home the next day proved 
to be a success in every way. Mac hardly 
knew of which to be most proud. Miss Janet’s 


376 


Over at Little Acorns. 


irresistible and gentle womanliness, which en- 
tirely conquered Andy’s independence, or the 
chivalrous homage which he unconsciously p^id 
her by accepting with a simple “thank you 
kindly, ma’am,” her offer to supply their com- 
fortless cottage with whatever she wished to 
place there. 

As they drove slowly home through the plea- 
sant dusk, made fragrant by the spicy odors of 
apple orchards and grape arbors, Mac said : 
“You can say with Caesar, ‘Yeni, vidi, vici,’ 
can you not. Auntie Jean?” 

Janet laughed. 

“I suppose I can, my classical friend; but I 
would rather think that Andy is learning the 
truth of our Saviour’s words ‘ It is more blessed 
to give than to receive.’ ” 

A few days after this, Marcia, sitting in her 
room one afternoon, heard a knock on her 
door. 

“ Come in, little sister,” she called. 

“ How did you know it was I ? ” asked Louise, 
looking puzzled. 

“Don’t you suppose I have learned the sound 
of your finger-tips by this time ? ” 

“Oh! is that the way you tell? I’ve come, 
sister, to show you two paths I found out in my 
Bible last Sunday. Shall I read them to 
you?” 


377 


A Quiet Talk. 

‘‘Yes, dear. I will gladly hear them.” 

“ The first one is all in the Psalms. It begins 
at; the fourth verse of the twenty-fifth and I 
call it 

“My Prayer Path. 

“ ‘ Show me thy ways, O Lord ; teach my thy 
paths.’ — Psalm xxv. 4. 

“ * Lead me, O Lord, in thy righteousness be- 
cause of mine enemies ; make thy way straight 
before my face.’ — Psalm v. 8. 

“ ‘ Teach me thy way, O Lord, and lead me 
in a plain path, because of mine enemies.’ — 
Psalm xxvii. 11. 

“ ‘ Teach me thy way, O Lord ; I will walk in 
thy truth : unite my heart to fear thy name.’ — 
Psalm Ixxxvi. 11. 

“‘Teach me, O Lord, the way of thy stat- 
utes ; and I shall keep it unto the end.’ — Psalm 
cxix. 33. 

“‘Cause me to hear thy lovingkindness in 
the morning ; for in thee do I trust ; cause me 
to know the way wherein I should walk ; for I 
lift up my soul unto thee.’ — Psalm cxliii. 8. 

“Isn’t that a beautiful one, sister?” 

“It surely is, and you will find it more and 
more so every time you walk in it. What is 
the other?” 

“The other I made just from verses without 
looking at the references. I call this 


378 


Over at Little Acorns. 


“My Happy Path. 

“‘If ye know these things, happy are ye if 
ye do them.’ — St. John xiii. 17. 

“‘And whoso trusteth in the Lord, 

happy is he.’ — P roverbs xvi. 20. 

“‘Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob 
for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his 
God.’ — Psalm cxlvi. 5. 

“ ‘ But he that hath mercy on the poor, happy 
is he.’ — Proverbs xiv. 21. 

“ I think that last verse means the poor people 
up at the quarry, don’t you, sister? Wouldn’t 
it be nice if Violet and Marcia and I could do 
something for the girls there who haven’t as 
pleasant homes as we have? Don’t you think 
we might this winter?” 

“I certainly do, Louise. We will talk it over 
»with Mr. Keith before long. You don’t know 
hov/ happy it makes me, little sister, to know 
that you are learning to love your Bible, and 
to become familiar with its pages, so full of 
comfort and help.” 

Louise had arisen and stood just behind 
Marcia. She stooped and whispered in her ear, 
“It makes me happy, too, sister, and I have 
made up my mind that I am willing for every- 
body to know that I am trying to be a Chris- 
tian. Will you tell papa, and ask him if I may 
join Mr. Keith’s church next Sunday?” 


A Quiet Talk. 


379 


Marcia turned in glad surprise, but Louise 
had slipped away and was fast locked in her 
own room, trembling from the effort her shy 
confession had cost her, but thrilling through 
and through with deep joy that she had had 
the courage to make it. 


CHAPTEE XXXIX. 

AT THE CHAPEL. 

“I love thy church, O God; 

Her walls before thee stand, 
Dear as the apple of thine eye. 

And graven on thy hand. 

“For her my tears shall fall. 

For her my prayers ascend ; 

To her my cares and toils be given 
Till toils and cares shall end.” 


— Timothy Dwight. 


HE Sabbath on which the Little Acorns 



i Mission Chapel was to be dedicated to 
the service of the Master dawned clear and 
bright. There was a crisp freshness in the air 
and a golden sparkle in the sunshine, which 
added new beauty to the landscape, and made 
the earth seem almost fair enough to be a 
heaven in itself. It was a day on which one 
felt glad simply to be alive for the pure physi- 
cal delight of existence. It was also a day 
whose rare loveliness raised one’s thoughts in- 
voluntarily up from the exquisite gift to the 
great, loving heart of its Giver. 

Long before the bell in the graceful tower 
sent its sweet voice echoing along the hillsides, 
the people began to gather about the chapel. 


380 


381 


At the Chapel. 

By twos and threes, and sometimes by whole 
families, they came from homes near by and 
far away. Occasionally a solitary, shame-faced 
straggler was seen skulking along in the shadow 
of bushes and of trees, conscious of his unfit- 
ness for the companionship of respectable 
people, yet drawn irresistibly by a craving for 
something which should satisfy the hunger of 
his starving soul. 

It seemed as though Keith, who was almost 
the first one there, had an instinctive know- 
ledge of the approach of such as these. He 
met them “-afar off,” and put them at their 
ease with a kindly courtesy which even they 
were not too sin-hardened to appreciate. 

And so the beautiful audience-room was 
gradually filled. Eich and poor sat side by 
side, and raised in prayer and hymn hearts 
equally in need of divine forgiveness, equally 
deserving of divine help. 

Neighboring pastors assisted in the service 
of setting apart the little church for the wor- 
ship of the Most High ; but it was Keith alone 
who received into its membership the forty 
souls who were its first harvest. 

It was the happiest hour of his fife, and tears 
of joy and thankfulness were very near to over- 
flowing as he clasped the hands of Andy Gra- 
ham and Mac and Louise in warm welcome to 


382 


Over at Little Acorns. 


the household of faith. For all the others he 
was truly glad, but towards these three he felt 
an especial tenderness. 

The sermon was preached by a white-haired 
minister from Standish, a saintly, gentle man, 
who could remember when the first stone had 
been cut from the quarry, and whose words of 
gracious counsel and almost fatherly kindliness 
were never forgotten by those who heard them. 

Just before the benediction, Keith spoke to 
his people from a full heart. 

“ . . . . And now, in closing,” he said, “let 
me repeat to you the words of the Lord Jesus, 
words which we will all do well to take as the 
foundation-stones of all our building, as the 
watchword of our lives : 

“‘And thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and 
with all thy mind, and with all thy strength; 
this is the first commandment. And the 
second is like, namely, this. Thou shalt love 
thy neighbor as thyself. There is none other 
commandment greater than these.’ ” 

At sunset, Keith and Janet sat alone in the 
pleasant garden at “Little Acorns.” 

“ What a blessed day this has been, Jeanie,” 
he said. “From the moment I opened my 
eyes until now not one thing has occurred to 
shadow its brightness.” 


383 


At the Chapel. 

“I have been thinking, since we came out 
here, of the morning a year ago last June, when 
yon first saw Louise. Do you remember it? ” 

‘‘Perfectly. I have recalled your words at 
that time more than once. They seem to have 
been almost prophetic, for I have found here a 
special work that I little dreamed of when I 
was chafing impatiently over my inability to go 
back to Philadelphia. How true it is that ‘ the 
Lord is good to all, and his tender mercies are 
over all his works.’ ” 

Again they heard the soft rustle of garments, 
and, looking up, saw Louise coming towards 
them. A new light was shining from her brown 
eyes ; a beautiful smile made her bright face 
sweeter than ever; a deep and abiding peace 
dwelt in her heart as she sat beside them and 
saw the holy day draw softly to its close. 

Dear girls and boys who have read thus far 
of the pleasures, the trials, and the achieve- 
ments of these other girls and boys, the time 
has now come when leave must be taken of 
them. 

Some of you, with lovely homes and kind 
friends' to give you every comfort and happi- 
ness, have found that children so blessed have 
weaknesses to conquer, tempers to control, 
faults to correct ; some of you, who are denied 


384 Over at Little Acorns. 

many of the good things of this life, and who, 
perhaps, long for them enviously, have seen 
that their possession does not prevent out- 
bursts of passion and all sorts of selfishness. 

It is earnestly hoped that all of you have 
discovered the only true way to subdue these 
enemies, and that you will, each one of you, 
make triumphant conquest of those dwelling in 
your own hearts. 

If you care to know more of winsome Louise 
and the friends she loved, of their school life, 
of their work among the hillside people, and of 
their growth in “whatsoever things are pure; 
whatsoever things are lovely ; whatsoever 
things are of good report,” you may be able 
at some future time to make a visit to the 
Sylvester Quarry. 


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